


Deeper Fate

by nijijin



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nijijin/pseuds/nijijin
Summary: A near-fatal away mission reveals the love between three men. (08/10/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

### 1.

"MY GOD! MALCOLM!"

Jonathan Archer cried out in shock as he and Trip Tucker surged forward trying to get into the arena from their holding area. It was no use. The guards firmly held their ground and kept the two alarmed Enterprise officers from getting to their wounded comrade.

All around them the crowd cheered loudly as they watched the Armory Officer stagger back from his opponent with surprise. Malcolm felt the sharp, burning pain before he looked down. The dagger was imbedded deeply into the fleshy part of his side. Warm blood began to stain yet another crimson spot on his uniform.

Damn! He had underestimated the amount of fight his opponent had left. Malcolm tried to shake his head back into the here and now...his thoughts skittered wildly as everything around him tilted in kaleidoscope color and confusion. He gripped his own blade, readying himself to lunge forward and strike the Xlaysion gladiator. Malcolm had already dispatched two others to the astonishment of both friend and foe. Never mind, he thought...he would simply just have to finish this one off before...well...falling dead to the ground himself. He giggled a bit at the image...oh dear...must be going into shock.

As he stared down his enemy, Malcolm made another unsettling discovery. There was no blade in his hand. Frantically, glancing around he saw it was close behind the Xlaysion's feet and quite out of reach. Oh bloody hell! At just about the same moment, the alien realized too where both their weapons were. The leathery skinned hulk straightened to his full height. At least another two feet or so taller than the tact officer. Oddly purplish blood shimmered here and there as he hovered momentarily above the smaller man. Clearly thinking he had the advantage, the Xlaysion roared out a triumphant battle cry as he careened forward towards his opponent. The creature didn't realize that Malcolm also still had a fair amount of fight left. The gladiator saw too late his enemy grabbing the hilt of the knife buried in his own flesh and pulling it out with an agonizing scream. The last thing the Xlaysion saw or felt, to his utter shock, was his own weapon held in the bloody hands of the tiny alien, who then viciously and with unerring accuracy pushed it up and forward into his chest.

Tremors raced through Malcolm's body as he nervously backed away from the last Xlaysion opponent. He watched the utterly confused look on the gladiator's face turn into a pained grimace before the bastard fell forward into the arena dirt. With satisfaction Malcolm thought the blade had likely pushed deeper it the brute's body. Letting out a sigh of relief, the Armory Officer began to feel incredible pain wash over him. The adrenaline that had carried him through the _contest_ was fading and so was he. Trying to focus once again, the din of the roaring crowd seemed oddly far away and hollow to Malcolm. Besides pain he also felt strangely cold...chilled to the bone in fact. He had gone into shock many times before...but this felt different. He just wasn't sure what it was...and really...did it matter now anyway?

As if drunk, Malcolm began to stagger in a circle, urgently looking for the Captain and Commander...Jon and Trip. He finally caught sight of them arguing with the Xlaysion officials trying to get into the arena...to him. An odd smile crossed Malcolm's lips. Thank the heavens they appeared to be safe. The Captain, ever the diplomat, was obviously trying to keep himself and his Chief Engineer calm while entreating the aliens to let them go in. The Commander, ever the hot head, had his hands flailing frantically while yelling inches away from the Xlayions' faces. A shame really, Malcolm thought sluggishly. He'd never hear Jon's soft, delicious voice or fantasize about Trip's strong arms around him again.

Just then both Archer and Tucker stopped to look at Reed. Eyes locking, Malcolm tried to convey a message. What an honor it had been to serve with them...how much he cherished the small friendship they were developing...that he wished there would have been more time...that he hoped they cared for him...even just a little. Jon and Trip's expression changed into fear and alarm before they now roughly pushed the aliens out of the way and broke into a run towards him...Xlaysions chasing after. Malcolm wondered if had anything to do with the fact that he had slipped heavily down to his knees. He tried to wait for them, but in the end, he too fell face down into the dirt. A few more breaths...shadows over him...slipping into darkness.

### 2.

"YA GOD DAMN SONS OF BITCHES! AH HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO GO OUT THERE! HE BEAT YOU FUCKIN ASSHOLES FAIR AND SQUARE!"

Tucker was going ballistic and spewing spittle and obscenities all over the Xlaysion guards. Speaking too quickly for the UT and quite frankly using _words_ that were pretty much untranslatable, the guards were not persuaded by the Chief Engineer's outburst.

As much as he agreed with Trip, Archer knew arguing with these bastards wasn't getting them any closer to the Lieutenant. And they needed to get to Malcolm...NOW!

Letting Trip continue to rail at the guards, Jon turned and looked up at Preyol, the ringmaster, of this so-called entertainment. For his part, the tall wooden-like alien looked more than a little displeased at the unexpected turn of events.

"My Commander is right...following the rules of your game, Mr. Reed _did_ beat your best warriors." Archer hissed out defiantly, "He's won our freedom. We're getting our man and leaving, Preyol."

Preyol, straightened to his full height, trying to intimidate. The Enterprise officers had come to understand that the Xlaysions often relied on this technique to gauge an adversary's reactions. Archer flashed a droll smirk at the alien. This off-worlder was not impressed by the tactic.

Preyol huffed in distaste at the Captain, "Your champion led us to believe that he was "ill at ease" with combat. Clearly we were misled. This deliberate misdirection gave him an unfair advantage."

Trip Tucker abruptly stopped yelling when he heard the comment. Looking at his Captain, the younger man goggled his eyes in disbelief. Jon Archer stepped forward immediately placing himself between the flabbergasted Commander and the now apprehensive alien.

"Triiiip," Archer tried to quietly admonish. Seeing Tucker's sky blue eyes turn steely and determined, the Captain knew it was no use.

"Ah'm sorry Cap'n...yer just gonna hafta court martial me for insubordination, cause Ah'm gonna beat the shit outta this fuckin assbite!" Trip bellowed as he stalked forward trying to grab a now terrified Preyol.

Archer placed a firm hand on Trip's chest. The younger man blinked back his rage and looked closely into his best friend's eyes. Jon's misplaced guilt for this whole mess...for getting Malcolm hurt yet again...reflected painfully in his sorrowful hazel focus. Trip raised his own hand to cover Jon's and gave a firm squeeze. He understood...this was not helping Malcolm...and he'd have to trust Jon to get them out of this. For a fleeting moment they smiled affectionately at each other before the Captain turned to Preyol.

"Your perception of the events are at the very least amusing, Preyol...at the most...cowardly and insulting!"

Preyol bared his brownish teeth at the Captain, causing the guards to move menacingly towards the pair as well. Trip turned to face the two guards just before he and Jon both straightened to their full height. While quite a bit shorter than the Xlaysions, the intent of the off-worlders could not be misinterpreted...they were going to fight and had no intention of losing. Preyol and the guards hesitated. If the smaller one in the arena could do so much damage, what were these two larger, obviously more powerful humans capable of?

"Here's _my_ version of the events, Preyol," Archer began in a dangerously low tenor, "Your people deliberately led us to believe that this _sport_ was completely harmless. You encouraged...actually...tricked us...into coming down to _play_ as proof of our good faith. After watching the barbaric murder of several clearly ill matched * contestants* you held us against our will when we refused to participate. Misled? Misdirected? Unfair advantage? Lieutenant Reed only used your own strategies against you. He recognized your cowardice in challenging the smallest and weakest to play your sadistic game. Yes, our Security Officer deliberately misled you into thinking him weak, terrified and unable to defend himself. He is by no means "ill at ease" with doing whatever it takes to protect his crewmates. And as for unfair advantage...three of you against one could hardly be considered an even match. "

Archer tsked and shook his head, "Really, Preyol this display of bad sportsmanship is rather distasteful. Acting the sore loser is so unbecoming...so beneath someone of your stature." The last was intoned with enough sarcastic venom that even Tucker had to snort an ironic laugh.

Leaning into the alien Archer continued in a whisper, "and besides, before your guards have a chance to get to me, I'll break every bone in your body and then choke the pathetic life out of you. I'm gonna enjoy listening to you gag to death, you worthless piece of shit!"

"CAP'N!"

Jon turned at Trip's distressed call. Following his Commander's line of sight, Jon's breath caught as he saw Malcolm staring back at them intently. Trip, also looking at the dazed smaller man, was already absently starting to move towards the bloodstained officer. The guards took action in tandem blocking his cautious progression.

In that brief moment of locking eyes, Jon watched in astonishment as Malcolm lay bare his very soul to both of them. No...it couldn't be...but there it was...the truth...Jon's suppressed feelings of admiration, fondness and want were so obviously returned by Malcolm. When the Brit seemed satisfied that the message was received he smiled wanly and broke their link by looking over at Trip. Jon stole a glance over at the Southerner...his best friend. He could see Trip swallow reflexively and offer the Lieutenant a confirming nod of equally returned affections. Of course...it stood to reason that if Jon found so many things to love about Trip, Malcolm would too.

Trip's brow began to crease. Without sparing a glance at his Captain, he reached to grip Jon's shoulder. Both men watched in dread as Malcolm, head drooping, fell hard to his knees and dropped face down in the dirt. Fine dust clouded up around his now motionless body. With a wrenching howl Trip pushed hard into the surprised guards and made a mad dash for the hurt man. Before the guards could give proper chase, Jon began to advance threateningly on Preyol.

Trying to hide his fear, the nervous alien barked out a command, "Let them go! Let these barbarians see we can be fair and merciful."

Archer gave Preyol a withering glare before turning running after Tucker toward Malcolm.

### 3.

Ignoring the heavy boots following him, Jonathan Archer stopped abruptly next to his men. Holding his breath, he watched Trip Tucker cautiously kneel next to the body of Malcolm Reed. Trip reached out hesitantly as if to offer a silent prayer before carefully turning the smaller man over. As his body flopped back and his head lolled to the side, both men gasped...Malcolm was a horrid mess. Red and purple blood mingled over his tattered uniform. Moist dirt clotted a hefty gash to his temple. The knife wound to his side still flowed freely. Knuckles were battered and swollen. His usually angular face marred by the quick swelling of a vicious bruise. With trepidation Trip reached a trembling hand to the smaller man's throat checking for a pulse. After the merest brush of fingertips, the Commander pulled his hand away, then reached down again to touch more firmly.

"Trip?" Jon asked in worried confusion.

"Jon...his pulse is racing...he's burning up." Trip looked up at his friend with astonished hope. "HE'S ALIVE! God damn proper little twit is alive and kick'n! Shoulda known he's too stubborn to die!"

Trip scooted up and gently cradled Malcolm's head and shoulders in his arms. The Southerner tried to coax him into consciousness, while using a free hand to press down on the still bleeding stab wound.

"Mal...come on...wake up...it's time to leave this god forsaken rock. Lieutenant...Mr. Reed...enough now! Malcolm...don't you do this...don't you dare leave us!"

As Trip continued to cajole, soothe, yell attempts to wake Malcolm, Jon let out a tense sigh before turning to Preyol now standing next to them. With a dangerous glint in his eye and a defiant set to his jaw, Archer held out his hand, palm facing up.

"Our communicators and weapons, Preyol...NOW!"

The alien hesitated. Captain Archer, listening to his Chief Engineer plead with his Armory Officer, went ballistic himself. He grabbed Preyol by the robe and yanked the overwhelmed alien abruptly close.

"Did you really think I would tell my crew not to interfere? It's not our way, Preyol. What I told my people on the ship was that if they didn't here from us by 1600 they were to launch an attack on this very location. If we're not leaving here...no one's leaving here." Archer bluffed harshly.

He then casually looked at his chronometer. As if talking to a child, Archer enunciated deliberately, "You have five earth minutes to give me MY DAMN COMMUNICATOR OR WE'RE GOING TO PURGATORY TOGETHER!"

Preylor relented and gave a swift nod to one of the guards. From under the other alien's robe the communicators and weapons appeared and were handed over to the Captain. Waving the Xlaysions back with the phaser, tamping down an urge to set it to kill and blasting the bastards to kingdom come, Archer quickly contacted Enterprise.

"Captain, you are slightly delayed in making contact at the appointed time, " T'Pol carefully conveyed her worry without appearing to, "are you in need of our assistance?"

Just then, a moan weakly rippled across Malcolm's lips. Encouraged, Trip continued trying to guide the smaller man back to the world of the living. Equally hopeful, Archer asked T'Pol to stand-by and crouched next to Tucker placing a reassuring hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"That's it Lieutenant, as your superior officer, Ah'm ordering you to regain consciousness. Mr. Reed...do you hear me? Stop being obstinate Mal and open those disapproving eyes."

The Lieutenant did not disappoint. A frown creased his already dirty and bloody forehead. "Tr...Tr...Triiiiip?" Came the deathly low and raspy response.

"Mal! Yeah, it's me. Say something. Keep talk'n some more...how ya feel'n?"

Malcolm fought to force his eyes open. God, he had a horrendous headache. The pain that seemed to be arcing over his entire body like lightening was too unbearable for words. And cold...the bloody cold. Too much like the shuttlepod. Try as he might only one eye cooperated slightly to an unfocused squint.

"Fine"

Looking at the decimated body before them, Archer and Tucker could only gape incredulously at his response. But before either could launch into an admonishing retort, Malcolm's eyes grew wide with terror, becoming agitated he fought to sit up.

This time Archer spoke, a bit more harshly than intended, all the while trying to push the younger man down with Trip's help.

"Whoa...whoa...whoa...Mr. Reed, calm down. What is it...tell me what's wrong?"

Not quite recognizing his Captain's voice, Malcolm tried to launch again.

"Trip...where's Jon...are either of you hurt? Both of you...get out of here! You mus'nt stay. Please I beg you...protect the Captain...get back to Enterprise!"

"Malcolm! We're here! Trip and I are both _right here_ with you. Stop now...be still...no more thrashing!"

Archer's firmness reached Malcolm as Trip frantically kept hold over the stab wound desperately trying to staunch each new surge of blood.

"Jon? Thank the heavens, for you both." Malcolm was relieved.

Weak and unstable, Malcolm was having trouble keeping his emotions in check. He wanted these two, that he'd come to care for so much, away from this hell hole as fast as possible. Frustrated that they weren't listening to him, Malcolm quite deliberately meant his next demand to be hurtful.

"Please, Captain...sir...with all do respect," Malcolm hesitated...he was fading fast...praying for forgiveness...knowing he had to force them, "...for once...humor me...make me feel like I've done my job...listen to my paranoid request as your Security Officer...TAKE THE COMMANDER AND LEAVE THIS PLACE!"

Archer staggered, fell back on his haunches as if slapped. Tucker, just as shocked looked down at Reed. The Brit was waning, but still held a silent plea for Trip to understand and do as he was told. Rolling his shoulders, setting his jaw, Trip turned to Jon. There'll be time to explain later.

"He's right Captain...we need to get _you_ outta here."

Trip saw the grief cross Jon's face. The Southerner glanced down at Malcolm. With wetness gathering in the fading gray eyes, the smaller man mouthed a grateful "thank you" before closing them. Alarmed Trip leaned in closely to see that Malcolm's breathing was fast and shallow. Shock was taking over.

"Sub-Commander...lock on to Commander Tucker's and Lieutenant Reed's bio-signs for immediate transport. I'll be piloting the shuttlepod back to Enterprise." Archer's tone was firm if not downright icy.

Trip grabbed his Commanding Officer's wrist and pulled the communicator closer.

"Be lay that order Sub-Commander.

Archer glared at Tucker furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing Commander?"

"Sir...with all due respect...our first duty is getting the Captain of the Enterprise back to safety." Before Archer could argue Trip pointed down at Malcolm, "Jon, he needs to know you're protected. Besides...I envy you getting to be with him while I hafta pilot the shuttle back to Enterprise." Trip grinned an apology of sorts.

Jon quickly tried to read Trip, but too much of Malcolm's precious little time was being wasted. Although he felt devastated, this would all have to wait until Malcolm was cared for.

"Sub-Commander...your orders have changed. Lock on to _my_ and Lieutenant Reed's bio-signs for immediate transport. Commander Tucker will be piloting the shuttlepod back to Enterprise."

"Very well, Captain. Please stand-by for transport. Dr. Phlox is already waiting with a medical team for Lieutenant Reed's arrival."

"Wait...I didn't tell you...," before he could finish, Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed shimmered away before Commander Tucker's eyes.

Rubbing his eyes with fatigue, and just plain soul wrenching sadness, Trip had the premonition that things were going to get worse, before they got better. Well...damn it...let them! He wanted Jon...he wanted Mal and nothing was going to stop him from having them both. Resolutely Trip Tucker began trudging back to the shuttlepod. Not before flashing Preylor and the Xlaysions blue death from his eyes one last time.

### 4.

T'Pol, with hands clasped behind her back, stood statue still as two shimmers took form on Enterprise's transporter pad. Beside her Dr. Phlox and his medical team quietly and efficiently made ready for the arrival of their injured crewmate.

When Archer and Reed fully materialized even the seasoned Denobulan and emotionless Vulcan seemed ill prepared for the nightmare that greeted them. Dr. Phlox's expression was momentarily grim...a rarity, while T'pol's eyebrows rose briefly. Both quickly shuttered away any further outbursts of emotion before stepping into action.

Gently asking Captain Archer to move back, Dr. Phlox and his team immediately made their way to Reed's side. T'Pol moved silently to her kneeling Commanding Officer holding out her hand as if to offer support. As he stood up, the Captain weakly rattled off the Armory Officer's injuries that he knew of. All the while hand held scanners, scissors, forceps, bandages and all manner of medical equipment moved about the fallen man continuously.

Dr. Phlox and his team spoke to each other in hushed tones. Archer caught snippets of their tense discussion, wishing he hadn't. Transfusion...laceration...concussion...coma were all words Jon had come to guiltily associate with Malcolm over the past year.

Since Enterprise's launch the younger man incessantly voiced his concerns and recommendations for the safety of the crew and ship. The Armory Officer was especially insistent when it came to the protection of the Captain. It wasn't exactly that he ignored the Lieutenant...rather...Archer weighed Reed's anxieties against the main purpose of the mission...discovery. More often than not, Malcolm's worries were well founded, but in Jon's enthusiasm for space exploration they tended to be duly noted and then promptly dismissed. Although it was unbecoming of an officer...and Malcolm Reed had come to mean the universe to him...Jon wanted to prove...just a little...that as Captain... _he_ might know what's best.

"Mr. Reed...why don't you let _me_ be the Captain for a change?"

Guilt seeped up, like so much of Malcolm's blood. The words he sarcastically tossed at his Armory Officer some months back rang accusingly in his mind. As did the childish "whose the better Eagle Scout" competition. Which, yet again, Malcolm proved to be the superior. As Jon watched the good doctor struggle to keep the wounded man in the moment, more images, gestures and words paraded across his awareness, broadcasting his blame over and over.

Getting shot in a godforsaken cave...beaten and shot by a hologram...beaten and shocked during a prison break...all done to the Armory Officer while protecting or saving a Captain unwilling to make a few compromises for safety's sake.

To the Lieutenant's credit, the younger officer never once voiced a single recrimination. The Captain knew Reed could have very easily written up his reports to reflect his Commanding Officer's veto of recommended security measures. No such comments ever appeared on Reed's statements. Archer, however, made sure his own reports reflected that the Lieutenant was never derelict in his duty of pointing out possible risks to crew and ship.

Malcolm could also have come to Jon and quite simply said, "I told you so". While the younger man was quite adept at subtly letting his facial expressions or body language voice his disapproval or displeasure at a comment or decision, he never outright remarked to the Captain. That is...until today.

"...for once...humor me...make me feel like I've done my job...listen to my paranoid request..."

If Malcolm Reed had meant to hurt him with those words...he had hit the mark.

Trip had seen it in his best friend's eyes earlier on the planet. Jon was already berating himself for deciding against the Lieutenant's anxious attempt to dissuade them from going down to Xlaysia at all. At the time, Reed wasn't keen on the so-called "games" the Captain and away team were invited to participate in. Having been a student of ancient history, his apprehension stemmed from realizing how similar the Xlaysion sport was to the gladiator games of ancient Earth's Roman Empire. Sadistic...cruel...and usually fatal for the loser.

Reed had next tried to persuade him to at least take a fully armed contingent of security officers along. With that niggling wish to disprove his Armory Officer's obvious overreaction and Xlaysion assurances of safety, Archer finally settled on Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed and himself as the landing party. Before Malcolm could voice his increased agitation now that the third in Command would also be in jeopardy...the Captain reluctantly but firmly issued his decision as an order. After a moment of staring silence, Mr. Reed's stony faade was in place as a glacial "Yes Sir" was uttered. Permission given to be dismissed the smaller man's jaw muscle flexed as he turned sharply. The only other indication of his frustration were clenched fists, white knuckling as he walked away.

Jon realized to late,yet again, Malcolm's worries were unfortunately, justified.

A clatter of metal on the deck, thne a sudden airless gasp from the patient brought Archer harshly back from his self-recriminations to the unholy chaos of the transporter room.

"DOCTOR! " exclaimed Liz Cutler as her gaze locked with Malcolm's wide-eyed frozen expression.

### 5.

Jonathan Archer hesitantly tried to step closer but T'Pol only held his hand more tightly in hers. He glanced up into her expressionless face. A silent plea in his eyes begged to let him go.

"I do not believe Dr. Phlox is finished," T'Pol's steady and purposeful gaze additionally implied, //He is not giving up...nor will you!//

Archer latched on to the calming influence of the Vulcan. He gently squeezed back and gave her a small grateful smile. He turned to see the Denobulan leaning closer to Malcolm's face. Jon swallowed hard. Phlox leaned back and motioned for Archer to come closer.

"Captain, if you please."

This time T'Pol relinquished her firm grip. Jon stepped closer and kneeled next to the doctor close to his Armory Officer's face. Afraid to look down at Malcolm, Jon focused on Dr. Phlox's dour expression dreading what he was about to be told.

Dr. Phlox gave a small reassuring smile, as returned attention to the injury he was tending to. He tilted his chin in the direction of the patient.

"Mr. Reed is conscious for the moment and seems rather intent on knowing where you are. Please Captain talk to him...keep him occupied...until we're able to move him to sickbay."

Utterly surprised, Jon Archer looked down at the younger man. While confusion, fear and pain all played on his badly injured face, it was joyously clear that Malcolm was still alive and quite awake. Jon looked back at Phlox in wonder and for the first time, with a hopeful expression. Phlox nodded his reply.

"I will not delude you, Captain. The Lieutenant's injuries are extensive and range from the minor to the critical."

The glimmer of hope struggled to remain.

"But I believe my initial assessment of Mr. Reed's condition was inaccurate. Quite frankly I felt his chances of survival were slim to none." Dr. Phlox hesitated...then smiled brightly. "I am now more confident that our Armory Officer will continue to serve the Enterprise well."

Archer could have kissed the alien. Instead he nodded his understanding.

"Thank you, Doctor. Good work...good work everyone. I'm sure the Lieutenant appreciates you efforts on his behalf. I most certainly do."

Jon looked down at the smaller man with open affection. Now to do as the Doctor ordered...reassure Malcolm. When the Doctor snuffled a bit, Jon turned back to his miracle worker.

"Vast amounts of _bloody dirt_ can easily make diagnosis difficult."

Wry grins appeared around the room at the Doctor's use of "bloody dirt". It sounded so like something their English crewmate would say. Jon shook his head as Dr. Phlox gave an unexpected wink. Jon carefully placed his hand on the opposite side of Malcolm's head making sure not to get in Liz Cutler's way as she worked on the gash over the Armory Officer's eye. Checking himself to be sure no part of his own body was hurting Malcolm Jon situated himself so that he was in the injured man's direct line of sight.

"Mr. Reed...can you hear me? Come on...Malcolm. Here...look right here."

Jon gently placed his shaky hand on Malcolm's cheek, not caring who saw the comforting gesture. Malcolm blinked a few times before coming back from whatever distant place he had been. Refocusing, it took him only a moment to realize Jon Archer was with him...soothing...gentle. But where were they, certainly not still on that godforsaken planet? Noises sounded familiar...lights were a bit bright...a constant thrum. Enterprise...they were on the ship...home. Malcolm pulled in a deep breath...but suddenly stopped. Pain blossomed, in all its glory;

"Ugggghhhh!" Malcolm released the breath in agony then he promptly began to shiver. "SSSS...Sir...I'm ggg...glad you're...ssss...safe. Tr..rriipp...where?"

"Ssshh...its alright...Commander Tucker is bringing the shuttle home. He's safe and he'll be here soon. What is it Mal? You're shivering. Can you say why?"

"Cold...so cold."

The shivering was driving Malcolm's power of speech away. Jon looked over at the now confused Denobulan. From all outward appearances...skin flushed...hot to the touch...slight sweaty sheen...the Armory Officer obviously had a high fever. Yet, internally the young man was cold. Doctor Phlox asked one of his team to hand over a specific scanner. Once in hand, the Denobulan passed it over the wound to Reed's side. The Doctor's earlier grim frown returned.

"Doctor?" Jon still held greedily to hope.

"My readings are sketchy at best, but it appears that the Lieutenant was poisoned."

"What!?" Jon was astonished. Not only was he responsible for the man getting injured, but now poisoned? "How? When? He was never out of our sight and didn't eat or drink a thing."

"There are high concentrates of an unusual compound in and around most of Mr. Reed's wounds. I believe it highly likely that the hand weapons wielded by the Xlaysions in combat were enhanced, tipped if you will, with a powerful toxin."

Jon was now fighting down the tempting idea of blasting the Xlaysion planet as he had bluffed earlier. He rubbed his exhausted face.

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I'll need to run more conclusive tests in sickbay before I can answer that question Captain. This does however change Mr. Reed's prognosis...for the worst...I'm afraid."

"Dr. Phlox, we're ready to move the Lieutenant to sickbay," called out one of his team.

"Excuse me please, Captain. We'll do our very best."

The Doctor moved back to the patient and assisted in settling him onto the litter. In unison the team stood up and started moving the litter with it's precious cargo out of the transporter room towards sickbay.

Archer stood up feeling drained. That fleeting moment of hope seemed to have been snatched away from him. T'Pol, stood by shoulders barely brushing the Captain's. It was her secretive way of once again offering support. Archer ever so slightly leaned in his silent thanks before turning to her.

"How did you know to have Dr. Phlox and his team waiting at the transporter?" he asked.

"I did not know. The Doctor advised me that he would be waiting there, specifically for Lieutenant Reed."

Clearly the Captain was not please with the answer. T'Pol tried to offer a better explanation.

"One could logically deduce that Mr. Reed would need medical attention."

The Captain looked at her in anticipation.

"When you first reported in, your order was to transport Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. You were to pilot the shuttlepod back to Enterprise. This meant that the Commander, the Lieutenant or both were incapacitated to the point that a shuttlepod journey was not in their best interest." Archer nodded to continue. "When the Commander requested that I be lay your command, it was clear the he was in good health. Further proof bore out that conclusion when you advised that the Commander would be piloting the shuttle in your stead. The only officer left to be transported was Mr. Reed. Thus he likely had suffered injury."

T'Pol hoped her rationale offered the Captain some peace of mind. Archer looked down to the deck and briefly shook his head. Apparently it had not. Jon could see how T'Pol could come to the logical conclusion that Malcolm was in trouble and order Dr. Phlox to the transporter room. But Phlox had come of his own accord not at the Sub-Commander's request.

Captain Archer heard Phlox call him down the hall. After verbally thanking T'Pol and advising she had the Bridge until further notice, Jon jogged to catch-up with the group heading to Sickbay.

"Ahhhh...Mr. Reed is calling for you and the Commander again. Please try to assure and keep him calm. He really does much better when you're near, Captain."

Archer moved up to where he could hold Reed's hand.

"Oh! Captain! Please be careful with that arm. The Lieutenant's shoulder is dislocated. Come move to the other side of the litter and hold his other hand."

Jon must have looked stunned, because the Denobulan began to count off several other injuries not mentioned earlier by the older man.

"There is a well placed blade knick across Mr. Reed's left thigh. A particularly severe blow to the back has bruised a kidney. Several ribs are cracked. Again, additional tests in Sickbay may reveal more."

Archer now drowned in self-loathing. Could this be any worse? Grabbing hold of Malcolm's good hand, Jon stroked his thumb reflexively over the burning skin. The smaller man who seemed to disappear into the litter, open his eyes briefly. As a satisfied smirk graced his face, Malcolm dozed again. The brief gesture was dear to Jon.

"Dr. Phlox, how did you know to be waiting for Mr. Reed at the transporter?"

Phlox did not let on that he thought the Captain's question strange.

"Well...it does seem Mr. Reed is fated, if you will, to be injured on away missions.I decided it best to be ready and waiting this time. Fate did as anticipated."

Had that satisfied their Commanding Officer's odd question? A quick look into the now pale and drawn face clearly indicated his answer had not. Elaboration would just have to wait until after the Lieutenant was well underway to recovery.

### 6.

Trip Tucker came bursting out of the turbolift at light speed, nearly bowling over an unsuspecting crewmember. The Commander offered a clipped apology, too focused to turn as he said it. All his energy was aimed at getting to Sickbay as quickly as possible.

He decided that the first thing to be done after Malcolm recovered was to build a much faster shuttlepod. The damn tin can had taken forever to return to Enterprise. Hoshi tried to keep Trip advised of Malcolm's condition via the comm link. Unfortunately information was not very forthcoming, which agitated the already on edge Chief Engineer even more. Thankfully, T'Pol was able to give him and the Bridge Crew an update just as he was grappled back into the launch bay. The Armory Officer's prognosis was confusing at best. Nearing the entrance to Sickbay, Trip came to an abrupt halt. He took a deep cleansing breath, trying to rein in a jumble of emotions. While Malcolm's physical injuries were devastating, Trip was quite familiar with the damage Jon could inflict upon himself. His best friend of many years was capable of spiraling into a pit of despair, self-doubt and personal condemnation. Once there, it took a great deal of persuasive "sweet talk" to convince the older man he was free of blame.

Trip wearily scrubbed his face. God, he had just gone through this with Jon several weeks earlier...after their little _vacation_ in the desert. Trip's heart still ached at seeing Jon's undisguised all consuming guilt for that fiasco. The Chief Engineer had one hell of a time getting the obstinate bastard to let it go.

"Cap'n...what do Ah hafta do to get you to believe me? Ah don't blame you!"

Trip wasn't getting through. Nothing seemed to console his Commanding Officer. Jon turned away ignoring the younger man. Finally fed up, Trip yanked his best friend around to face him. Giving Jon's shoulder a sharp attention getting shake he hissed out.

"Don't you dare ignore me!"

Jon gulped as Trip leaned closer to take in the features that had fascinated him over the years.

"Trip...I'm sorry...I didn't mean..."

"With all due respect _sir_...shut the hell up."

Trip swooped in and roughly planted his lips on Jon's. Oh God...they _were_ as soft as he imagined. Pulling back slightly Trip pressed his advantage by running his tongue over those now slightly parted lips.

"Oh Jesus Christ, Trip!" Jon gasped leaning forward tracking that clever tongue as it pulled away.

"We've been dancin around this for a long time now. We both know what we feel is true, right?" Trip whispered hoping to get the answer he wanted.

Jon hesitated a moment, chewing on his lower lip. Finally his serious green eyes searched the mischievous sky blue ones he loved so much. He saw the wish in them and decided to grant it. Jon nodded.

"It's true Trip...I know we love each other."

Trip grinned and wanted to whoop a victory cry, but knew he had to hit the point home.

"Fine...if you can believe that Ah love you...why can't you get it through that thick, stubborn skull that WHAT HAPPENED WASN'T YOUR...Mmmmmphf!"

Jon grabbed the finger Trip was now poking into the side of his head and yanked the surprised officer into another rough kiss. This time the Captain took advantage of the surprise attack and slipped his tongue in to find Trip's. The resulting groan of contact made Jon smirk in satisfaction as he pulled away.

"Point taken...Commander."

Trip blinked away the memory as he stared at the Sickbay doors. It was the first time they openly admitted to having more than a brotherly affection for each other. Trip shook his head at their wasted years of stupidity.

And now here they were...how was he going to convince Jon not to go to that miserable dark place again? Trip knew he couldn't do it this time.

It had to be Malcolm.

God...Malcolm. Images of the Brit haunted Trip. Ever since their revelations in the Shuttlepod...actually even before...Trip was drawn to the Armory Officer as much as he was to the Captain. Of late, he found himself surreptitiously watching them separately and together. Though they might not agree, Trip thought they fit well together.

Not until today...until he helplessly watched the Armory Officer pull a knife from his own flesh to save them...until the wounded man freely showed his affections ...until he saw Jon desperately convey his own feelings...did Trip understand. The _three_ of them were bound to each other.

And what if Malcolm didn't make it? What if one of them was torn away before they experienced joy at each others hands? What if Malcolm didn't get the chance to explain that the harsh accusing words were only uttered to coerce the men he loved to return to safety? That he wasn't blaming Jon at all?

Trip settled his hands on his hips and stared at the deck for a moment. Looking skyward briefly he silently prayed to the heavens and gods. Rolling his shoulders back and standing tall, he pushed the door open, brusquely stepping inside the sterile room.

### 7.

Trip rounded the curtain into a melee. Malcolm Reed thrashed wildly on the biobed as Jon, Dr. Phlox and several medics tried desperately to hold him down all. Trip rushed in pinning the smaller man's shoulders before he completely arched off the bed. Malcolm shrieked in agony before his body became rigid. Trip not realizing he'd pressed hard into a dislocated shoulder raged furiously.

"What the hell is goin on! Why isn't he sedated?!"

Jon, dripping sweat, looked over at Trip. Before he could answer the Doctor piped up clinically while struggling to keep Malcolm's wounded side immobile.

"Mr. Tucker, we have determined that an unknown toxin was introduced into the Lieutenant's system. Please hold his shoulder like so, it has been dislocated."

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" Poison...God damn those fuckin bastards!"

"Believe me...you're sentiments are shared by us all. Until we are able to determine the nature of the poison it would be unwise to give him anything that might interact adversely. Unfortunately, Mr. Reed's current state is making it difficult to proceed with the necessary tests. He will need to be strapped down."

Both Jon and Trip glared at the Doctor in horror. Trip looked at Jon begging to not let that happen.

"Aren't there any other options, Doctor?" Jon asked in quiet desperation.

Dr. Phlox looked up sharply at the Captain. Another odd question. But after seeing the sorrowful expressions of both officers the Denobulan understood. They didn't want their crewmate to suffer at their hands as well.

"Perhaps, if you were to convince Mr. Reed to cooperate. Captain, you were successful earlier, with the Commander's help the Lieutenant may calm down enough for us to continue."

Jon nodded his gratitude for the option. Looking at Trip to move where Malcolm could hear them, Jon began to soothe.

"Mr. Reed...you have to listen carefully. Malcolm...come on now...you have to try and calm down. You need to relax. I'm here...Trip's right here too."

"Hey Mal...listen to Jon. We're both safe...we're both with you. It's really important that you stop movin around so much. The Doc needs you to stay still. You have to help us."

Familiar well loved voices floated to him through a fog of pain, cold and fear. He felt someone absently play with his hair. It was oddly comforting. Another hand was gently brushing along his jaw. How did they know he loved it when someone did that? Malcolm began to feel relaxed and warm. Much, much warmer...too warm in fact.

The Denobulan watched in amazement. The encouraging whispers and comforting caresses were working. The wounded man visibly relaxed. Moving in closer with his team Dr. Phlox began issuing instructions in preparation for the tests that needed to be done. Trip who had been gently running a hand along Malcolm's angular jaw stopped suddenly.

"Doc...somethin's happening. Feel Mal's skin."

Jon was the first to touch along the same area. Next the Doctor placed his small hand on the patch of skin. Cold...what had been feverish a moment before was now ice cold to the touch. The Doctor leaned into the officer.

"Mr. Reed if you can, tell me, are you hot?"

Malcolm struggled, never opening his eyes, nodding in the affirmative. The Doctor did not seem surprised.

"This is an amazing poison."

"I'm glad you admire what it can do, Doc." Trip retorted sarcastically.

"Trip!" admonished the Captain.

"No...Captain it's quite alright the Commander is simply worried. This compound is amazing because it's goal, besides reeking havoc on the body, is to defy or confuse treatment."

Trip and Jon didn't quite understand.

"Normally if there is a fever, treatment would involve bringing down the patient's temperature. However Mr. Reed claims to be cold. Bringing down his external body temperature may then not be appropriate."

The Denobulan noticed the Captain and Commander's expressions looked hopeless.

"Please...don't worry. I believe this development offers a clue towards finding a useful cure. Our treatment must not focus on alleviating the symptoms, as they are deceptive. The key is our antidote must at the most basic level counteract the compounds we find in the toxin.

Continue to assist Mr. Reed in remaining still and peaceful. I am very confident we are, as humans would say `on the right track.' Once we have something, treatment of his wounds should also be more efficient as I will be able to apply the therapeutic organisms where they are needed. Right now they would ingest the poison."

The Doctor once again gave an encouraging smile, before bustling out of the room. Jon and Trip blinked at each other daring to hope just a little that everything would be fine. Both looked down at Malcolm who had just begun to fuss at the sheet lightly draped over his patchwork body. Taking up residence on either side of injured man they realized it was going to be a long an agonizing stay.

* * *

His mouth was a bit dry and cottony as he swallowed reflexively. He experimentally tried to move his body. While there was discomfort the sharp, mind-addling pain wasn't there. He was sure the good Doctor probably had him pumped full of some lovely pain dampening drug cocktail. Cheers Dr. Phlox. Malcolm smiled to himself.

Oooo...his face did feel rather bundled up. He also felt an odd heaviness on his left arm and right thigh. He struggled to open his eyes. After several blinks the world around him came into focus. Doctor Phlox had finally figured out his patients appreciated the lights at a dimmer setting. Sickbay was bathed in sepia softness.

Dreading the heaviness he felt, Malcolm gradually began to prop himself up to take a look at the damage. Ah...his right arm was in sling...that's right dislocated shoulder...one of the three Xlasions just about wrenched his arm off. Pissed, Malcolm had quickly dispatched the bastard.

Rolling to edge himself up on to his left side, Malcolm came up inches above a head of blonde unruly hair resting on the lower part of his arm. To his amazement it seemed to be slightly snoring. Trying not to disturb the guardian, the Armory Officer peered over to his right. Surprised again, he came face to face with an obviously exhausted Captain. Also snoring...also with blonde hair sticking up every which way. The blonde on his arm could only be Trip. Malcolm began to grin and found doing so rather sensitive. It told him his face must look rather lovely. Movement by the curtain caught his eye. Looking up he saw a rather pleased Dr. Phlox with finger over smiling lips. He glided in close to Malcolm and whispered.

"Welcome back, Mr. Reed."

"Thank you Doctor. Glad to be back." He quietly rasped back.

The Denobulan quickly had a glass with straw ready for the injured man. Malcolm gratefully drank down the water. After returning the cup to the nightstand, the Doctor gently assisted Malcolm into lying back down.

"That's quite enough action for today Mr. Reed. You need to continue resting," whispered the satisfied physician.

"How long have I been out? Have the Captain and Commander been here the whole time? Have I sprung any leaks?" Malcolm questioned urgently but quietly.

The doctor shook his head, he knew the man well enough to know Malcolm Reed would not rest until he was appeased.

"You have been "out" as you call it for approximately five days. Either the Captain or Commander has been with you at all times. This happens to be one of the many occasions that they together have held vigil by your bedside. As for springing leaks, actually yes, you've sprung quite a few more, but as usual we were able to patch them. You are expected to recover completely, Lieutenant...Malcolm."

"Thank you, Phlox. You can never imagine how grateful I am to you and everyone else." Malcolm said sincerely. "Now what exactly do I have on my face? It feels like an oven mitt."

Phlox began to softly rattle off the extensive damage report. Hinting that recovery would be a bit more difficult this time around the Lieutenant was made to promise not to disobey the Denobulan's rehab orders. When Malcolm's eyes began to droop, the Doctor prudently took his leave. Malcolm asked to be helped up a little just once more. He was pleased to see that Trip and Jon continued to sleep soundly. Content that the two were really there Malcolm allowed the Doctor arrange to him as comfortably as possible. Dimming the lights further, the Doctor walked away from three sets of snores.

### 8.

Never in his wildest dreams did Trip Tucker ever imagine he would look forward to visiting Sickbay. But in the week since Malcolm opened his greyish eyes and smiled brightly, the Chief Engineer had delightedly come to expect the unexpected each time he dropped in on the Armory Officer.

That first joyous day Trip remembered slowly waking to his face being nuzzled in a warm and gentle hand. The hand abruptly pinched his nose and then ruffled his hair. Frowning he lifted his head, blinking sleep from his eyes. At that moment Trip caught sight of a pair of equally tired hazel eyes across the lean plane of a decidedly hard body. Jon and Trip both gave a start when the realization hit they were staring at each other over Malcolm's barely covered hips.

"Ah good...the Captain and Commander appear to be rousing."

Dr. Phlox's pleasant voice floated from somewhere above. Did he just say what they thought he said? Apparently so, since the comment was followed by a snerk. The latter most likely from the patient since a slight ripple worked it's way down the sinewy body before them. Looking at the triangle of dark hair that arrowed down from the Brit's bellybutton, disappearing under the light bed sheet, Jon and Trip suddenly became uncomfortably hot and bothered. Later both men admitted to Malcolm that the whole scene was surreal as well as incredibly erotic.

"Well Mr. Reed...it appears that the knife wound is healing rather nicely. The eels have done their job well. I'm afraid however, that a small scar will remain. Whoever pulled the blade out does rather sloppy work." The Doctor teased.

"Yes...well...I suppose I'll have to practice doing that maneuver in the gym." Malcolm retorted playfully. "Or perhaps you might show me the proper way of doing it, Doctor."

_Surreal...definitely surreal_

"Quite frankly, Lieutenant...I was hoping you would never need to perform such a procedure ever again." It was an admonishment from the Captain, who now faced the smaller man sternly.

"Yes Sir...you're quite right," replied the patient sheepishly.

Trip begged silently for Jon not to do this...not to upset Malcolm. It was clear that the Armory Officer thought Archer was angry and Mal was in no condition to deal with it. Trip released his breath, when he saw Jon's expression relax into a bright grin as he gently patted Malcolm's leg.

"Welcome back, Mr. Reed. You had us all pretty worried for a while there."

Malcolm's own sad expression opened into a difficult grin. The purplish bruise on his cheek repressing his wish to smile. The healing gash over his eye didn't help the situation either. Although Trip thought it made the man look more dangerous.

"Thank you, sir! You can't begin to imagine how good it feels to be here." Malcolm's gaze fell on Trip with affection. "TRIP! Um...I mean Commander...it's good to see you...both...safe and sound."

Trip moved closer and gently clapped his hand on Malcolm's shoulder.

"Glad yer awake...Leewtenant! What's this about wanting to assist the Doctor in the operatin room? Whose gonna work on a faster shuttlepod design with me? One Ah'm hopin to arm with phase cannons?"

Malcolm couldn't have smiled any harder. Both Jon and the Doctor brought the happy Armory Officer back down to reality with a few sobering remarks. Both Jon and the Doctor shot Trip a disapproving glare. Trip only winked.

"Now Mr. Reed, it won't do to excite yourself. Your job right now is to heal. We've already discussed the need for you to obey _my_ orders."

"But it can't hurt for me..."

"No buts Mr. Reed. You're to do exactly as the Doctor orders and that's _my_ order."

"Yes, sir," Malcolm almost sounded petulant.

Jon relented, "and besides it's not even on the drawing board yet. Mr. Tucker won't start working on the idea until you get a clean bill of health from Dr. Phlox. Which means follow orders...get to work on those phase cannons sooner."

Malcolm graced them with one if his sly smiles they had missed so much.

### 9.

"Malc, you really need to put this robe on."

"Why Trav? Oh I see."

"Yeah...so does everyone else."

"Sorry...this bloody arm's still in a sling so wearing the gown is easier. I keep forgetting the back."

"Hey, don't cover up on my account. The view is breathtaking!"

"HOSHI!"

Both Ensigns snickered and giggled, while on the other side of the curtain, Trip clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from being heard.

"Ensign Sato, were you aware that particular part of the anatomy could blush?"

"I had no idea Ensign Mayweather. It's quite remarkable. Perhaps Dr. Phlox would be interested in studying the phenomenon in closer detail?"

"Oh cor! You're both fekkin impossible gits!"

Hoshi and Travis barked out their laughter, never having heard the-oh-so proper Englishman use such colorful street slang. Trip was practically choking. This was better than the time he came in while T'Pol and Malcolm were gleefully discussing Ancient Rome and Vulcan. Who knew both were such avid history buffs. Malcolm's own musical laugh could also be heard.

"Come on Malc...try walking over to me by yourself. Hosh has your back." Travis and Hoshi burbled again.

"Ugh...fine!"

Trip tried but couldn't help it. A horse like snort escaped him.

"Did you hear that!"

"Shit! Get back in bed!"

"We are so going to the Brig!"

"I bloody hell won't!"

"Hey...who says a biobed can't be set up in there."

"Ow!"

"You know for a boomer, you're pretty clumsy in space."

"Will both of you please hush!"

Trip decided the trio had plenty of time to cover their tracks before he stepped into the room whistling. Apparently they didn't. Hoshi was absently brushing off her uniform while a flush faced Malcolm tried to quiet her hands. Travis was bent at an odd angle rubbing his knee which clearly had been painfully bumped into something. When they saw it was only the Commander the officers breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Hey...what're ya all up to?"

Trip didn't miss Malcolm looking past him in the hope of seeing someone else with him. The Commander also caught a glint of disappointment in the thoughtful gray eyes. The gesture was so subtle and quickly covered when Malcolm looked back at Trip with undisguised pleasure. The Chief Engineer would never tire of that look meant for him.

The three began to mumble excuses in unison.

"Oh nothing..."

"I was telling..."

"We were just..."

"What were you just doing...Ensigns?"

Doctor Phlox's deceptively pleasant voice mysteriously floated up from behind Trip, just before he stepped into view.

Busted...they were busted.

Trip felt sorry for the three friends. He gave Phlox a "come on-give em a break" head bob. Doctor Phlox gave Trip a "they know better" eyebrow lift. Finally, after noiseless negotiations and what seemed like a silent eternity the good Doctor relented.

"Mr. Reed you have all together too many visitors. The Commander may stay. Ensign Sato why don't you assist Ensign Mayweather in limping into the other treatment room so I make examine the damage." Doctor Phlox threw over his shoulder as he too moved towards the other room.

Hoshi, Travis and Malcolm grinned at each other before Travis gave a shake of his head. Even back on Earth Malc could always be counted on to get them into the oddest situations.

Hoshi kissed Malcolm on the cheek before slipping her arm through Travis'. She lead the tall, limping pilot out of the room. Malcolm continued to smile after them, looking up only when Trip cleared his throat.

"Disobeying orders, Leewtenant?"

Trip was leaning against the wall close to the bed. Arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side. Besides the body language Malcolm could clearly see a grim disapproving look on Trip's handsome face. The Armory Officer knew he was in for a dressing down.

### 10.

"Commander, I take full responsibility for this incident. Ensigns Sato and Mayweather were acting under my orders." As he spoke, Malcolm concentrated on his good hand fidgeting with his hospital gown. "In fact, they tried to dissuade me from attempting this little...excursion." Finally looking up at his superior officer the smaller man continued. "Trip...please...they didn't do anything but try to cheer me up."

"Do ya need cheerin up, Mal?"

Trip frowned as he stepped closer and carefully settled on the edge of the bed. Malcolm hesitated, trying to focus on anything else but Trip's expectant face. Trip had an inkling of why the Armory Officer seemed worried and restless.

Leaning forward he began to gently stroke Malcolm's strong jaw. When the Armory Officer's poison filled body was still struggling to survive the Commander had discovered that this simple gesture soothed and calmed the man. Later, when Malcolm's health improved it became a sensual indulgence for both. Even now the injured man lean into the luxurious caress.

"I...I suppose the Captain has been rather busy?" Malcolm asked hesitantly his voice slightly nervous.

Trip stopped his delicious circuit along Malcolm's jaw. He knew what was really being asked.

// What happened? Why is Jon avoiding me? Was I wrong? He doesn't feel the same? //

Trip knew because these were all the same questions on his own mind. Jon had all but stopped talking to him as well.

A gentle hand turned his and a sweet kiss was planted on the upturned palm. Trip focused on Malcolm's sly smile and darkening gray eyes. Thank the heavens for this...for him.

As Jon pulled away from them both, the bond between Trip and Malcolm had grown stronger. Sometimes they talked, other times they touched and then there were those moments when Trip would find delight in just watching Malcolm sleep. Trip leaned forward and kissed Mal hungrily.

Trip hoped the kiss would distract Mal's keen intellect. "Yeah...Jon's been pretty occupied lately. Mal, he's wanted to come down and see..."

"Liar!" The retort was succinct and just a touch harsh. The Armory Officer wasn't fooled.

"Let's face it _Commander_...I bloody well fucked up, again. I let us fall into another dangerous situation and it was sheer luck that got you both out alive. I don't blame the Captain for being angry with me." The dejected Armory Officer trailed off.

Trip's eyebrows rose dumbfounded. "What! _You_ let us...sheer luck...Mal...you...yer so...sometimes ya can be so damn idiotic...did ya know that Leewtenant?! Both of you!Blamin yerselves for what!? It just happened...it is...it was...can't be different...can't change it...over...done! Idiotic as hell!"

Malcolm opened his mouth to defend, but when he caught the weary, distant glaze in those usually bright blue eyes he thought better of it. Wisely staying silent he waited for Trip to continue.

"Ah really don't know what Ah see in either of you." The Southerner whispered his disappointment.

Trip seemed to being seeing some other time. He didn't notice the comment had smarted. Suddenly he was up and pacing the small area.

"Ah can't keep doing this...it's too much...too hard for me ta keep havin ta watch ya...self destruct. And ya both seem hell bent on doin it! Ya both gotta have it yer own way...so every time it rips me right through...Ah've had enough...Ah'm given...

"NO! DON'T!"

Tense gray eyes met hard sky blue ones. Malcolm reached out long elegant fingers to him. Trip glanced at them but refused to step closer. He glared defiantly at the coaxing Brit. Finally relenting Trip edged closer and took the pleading hand in his. Malcolm's thumb stroked an act of contrition along Trip's strong wrist.

"Trip...don't say it...don't give up on me or Jon. I...I know neither of us could bear it. You're bloody right. We're both idiotic fools for not realizing what we've done to you. I'm so sorry, Luv. Forgive me...and Jon...please."

Trip smirked at the very English endearment. How did Malcolm know he couldn't refuse when being called _that_?

"Alright you're forgiven...this time...but it has ta stop, Mal!

"Absolutely...thank you, Trip...you're quite right...it does...it will...I promise...and Jon?"

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

Confessor...confidante...counselor...these were not roles Malcolm excelled at or relished. But these men...they made him willingly do what was against his nature. When had he decided they were to have everything they wanted? And he would give it them freely? Quite simple really, when he fell in love with them both.

He was not one to believe in love at first sight. This had crept up slowly, quietly, much like a shy fog. Still, from the moment he met the Captain and Commander...Jon and Trip...there was something there. Their blonde larger than life good looks? No...looks were never what attracted Malcolm. Trip's easy manner...Jon's centered sense of being...the way both could pull you in as partner...co-conspirator? Or perhaps how they fit each other so beautifully. He was hard pressed to describe exactly what made them so miraculous.

One night while lounging companionably with Travis and beer, he admitted his interest in both men. When the pilot asked which man he liked more, Malcolm couldn't say. Each was a wonder to him in his own way.

And as often happened when death was a given...things became so obviously clear. That night...the question...Travis' voice ghosted around him again..."Which one?" Yes...of course he wasn't able to answer...because it was never one or the other...it was both. He had always loved Jon and Trip both.

Now...he'd lost Jon. More importantly Jon and Trip seemed to be giving up on each other. To keep them together, certainly meant losing Trip as well. Though that thought cut his soul deeply the alternative was unacceptable and unimaginable. Come on Malcolm...step into the battle...fight for this...and he leapt.

"Trip...you love him...and God help me I'm bloody well in love with both of you. I haven't seen him since that first day I woke up and it's quite clear to me, neither have you."

It was Trip's turn to try and protest. Malcolm held up an interrupting hand before continuing.

"I'm sure you're both well healed officers on duty, Commander. That's not what I'm talking about."

Malcolm swallowed and continued softly, "Trip,as much as I'd like to believe I'm enough for you and that you care for me as much as you do Jon, we both know it's not true. _He_ needs you as you do him. You're meant for each other...call it fate if you like.

I'm happy we've had this bit of time, but I'll be happier when you're back with Jon where you belong. Now, what are _we_ going to do to fix this?"

Trip blinked furiously, all the while turning bright red, "Well fuck you, Mr. Reed!"

### 11.

It was o'dark hundred, the only time he could slink into Sickbay and watch Malcolm sleep. God he wanted to touch...hold...kiss...the small figure splayed invitingly over the bed. Anything to soak his own parched soul. Trip...he missed Trip...wanted him in much the same way. But he couldn't have them. Not without knowing he was responsible the next time one of them got hurt...or...he let the thought trail off.

Jon crept closer to the sleeping officer. He'd been making these nocturnal pilgrimages ever since Malcolm woke. He and Trip had enjoyed watching a laugh ripple through Malcolm's sleek, nearly naked body that first day. The sight of Malcom's body, his laughter, and smile were addictive. The way the Brit's eyes refused to hide the rapture in seeing Trip and even his feigning petulance at being admonished made it difficult for Jon to stay away.

Stealthily he settled into the chair and took in Malcolm's features. Jon frowned at what he saw. Previous visits revealed a beautiful face beginning to glow with life once more. Tonight Malcolm looked drawn and pale. His lips and brow pressed into a glower, jaw twitching reflexively in restless sleep. Jon felt a rush of apprehension. Just as he did when Malcolm joked about needing more practice pulling knives out of himself. Jon hadn't found the macabre quip amusing in the least.

Worried that Malcolm's health had declined Jon stood with intent of hailing the Doctor in his quarters. Glancing once more at the beloved Armory Officer, he stepped into Sickbay's reception area. Surprisingly, Jon found Doctor Phlox puttering silently around the room. The Denobulan stopped and waited for Archer to join him.

"Doctor...how's Malcolm doing? He seems a bit unsettled in his sleep." Jon tried to keep the edge of worry out of his voice.

"Yes...I noticed that as well. At first, I thought he might have tired when the Ensigns attempted to liberate the Lieutenant earlier today. Then I realized the setback was more likely due to the intense argument with the Commander afterwards."

All the while Phlox toyed absently with the beakers on the counter. Suddenly he stopped and looked pensively past Jon.

"Hmmmm...perhaps a combination of both..."

Astonished, the Captain interrupted, "Setback? Ensigns? As in Sato and Mayweather? Escaping from Sickbay? Arguing with Commander Tucker?"

"You weren't aware that the Lieutenant tried to leave Sickbay with the help of Ensigns Sato and Mayweather?"

Eyes cast down Jon began to rub his forehead impatiently.

"Mr. Tucker did not advise you that he and Mr. Reed argued afterwards...ending only when the Commander uttered an expletive and stormed out of Sickbay?

Archer looked up sharply at the last comment.

"Ah...apparently not. I had not planned on discussing the matter until your nightly sojourn as I assumed Commander Tucker would have provided you with a full report earlier today, Captain."

"It must have slipped his mind, Doctor," Jon's response was surly caught off guard by the fact that the Doctor knew of his secret visits.

Doctor Phlox blinked for a moment, "Well...yes...be that as it may...it would do to remind senior staff that Mr. Reed is not well enough to deal with such stresses. As you have already noticed it has caused a setback.

"I'll have a talk with them, Doctor."

"Although you seem reluctant to, "the Denobulan pulled out a datapad and handed it to Archer, "I strongly advise you take some time to talk with the Lieutenant."

Archer stared at the datapad in his hand before raising questioning hazel eyes at the Doctor.

"No...Captain...I do no know what Mr. Reed wrote. I _do_ know he was quite agitated when he asked for the pad and while he composed on it. He made it quite clear that since I was likely to see you before he that I give it to you."

Archer frowned and turned to leave Sickbay, "I'll take your recommendation under advisement, Doctor."

"See that you do, Captain."

Jon turned to face the Doctor for a moment. The Denobulan's serious expression made it quite clear, that here in Sickbay, the small alien was most definitely in charge. Jon gave him a respectful nod before leaving.

Moving down the hall, Jon hesitantly powered up the pad. After reading for a moment, he stopped dead in his tracks.

It was a request to be transferred off the Enterprise.

### 12.

Jonathan Archer sat in his Ready Room head bent forward in defeat. His hands gripped the edge of the desk white knuckled. He stared in disbelief at the two datapads before him. Both requesting transfers off the Enterprise...away from him...away from each other. How had it all come to this?

After getting Malcolm's request in the wee hours of the morning, he aimlessly roamed the ship unable to sleep. At one point, he found himself in front of Trip's door. He began to raise his trembling hand to the door chime. Instead he dropped it limply to his side. Jon pressed his forehead to the door itself, as if the gesture could make the occupant understand. No one answered the door...no one understood.

With not much else to do, Jonathan returned to his cabin, showering and changing before heading to the Bridge. The graveyard crew was surprised to see their Captain hours before Alpha Shift was due to report. Archer smiled briefly before heading directly to the Ready Room. Maybe catching up on reports would give him some respite. Enough, he hoped, to figure out what to do about Malcolm and Trip. He perused the pile of datapads strewn over the desk. With a sigh he pulled out his chair only to find a datapad there as well.

Picking it up he decided to start towards oblivion with the gray handheld. Pacing around the small space he powered it up and began to read.For the second time in so many hours he was stopped dead in his tracks.

The datapad glowed a request to transfer off the Enterprise from one Commander Charles Tucker the III.

"Shit!"

### 13.

The turbolift doors opened and a hesitant Chief Engineer stepped out onto the Bridge. Archer had brusquely summoned him some minutes ago, just after the start of Alpha Shift. From the tone of the Captain's voice, it was quite clear no delaying tactics by the subordinate officer would be tolerated.

Looking around nervously he didn't immediately see Jon in the Command chair, but when it turned towards the doors a tired and obviously enraged Captain was revealed.

"Commander, so nice of you to join us, " it was spoken with a barely suppressed sneer.

"Good Mornin, Sir, Ah apologize for the delay. Ah wanted to leave some final instructions in Engineering regardng the relays we plan to overhaul today." Trip was solicitous.

Trip carefully studied Jon's face for the first time in a week. It was obvious this whole unbearable situation had taken its toll on the older man as well. Dark patches formed under his best friend's eyes. His skin was sallow and gray. Hazel eyes that usually sparked with bright intelligence and a hint of mischief seemed lost and haunted.

While his heart went out to Jon, Trip couldn't help but feel the stubborn, obstinate nitwit had brought this on himself. What was Jon thinking pushing both he and Malcolm away? What was it Trip had said to Malcolm yesterday? Idiots...they were both idiots.

"My Ready Room Commander," the order was stiff and cool.

"Yes, Sir!" Trip responded in his best military diction.

The Captain visibly bristled before standing and directing the Commander to lead the way. Trip just about marched parade style towards the Ready Room. Once inside he stood at attention. Archer stalked in close behind the younger man. Stopping near enough for Trip to feel warm familiar breath along the column of his neck. Jon inspected the rigid body before him. Trip caught the shake of Jon's head from the corner of his eye.

"You remind me of Malcolm standing at attention like that. Trip, please take a sit." Jon entreated as he walked around the desk to sit in his own chair.

Just as Malcolm would do, the Chief Engineer chose to stand "at ease" instead. After Jon settled in he looked up a Trip with a start. The hurt and rage took him again.

"Commander Tucker, care to explain the meaning of this?" Archer tossed the offending datapad towards the younger man.

"Ah believe it's self explanatory, Cap'n."

Jon's expression darkened as Trip's mouth formed an unforgiving thin line. Both stared each other down...neither willing to give an inch.

"Humor me, Commander. Why don't you spell out the details? That _is_ an order."

Trip raised his eyebrows for a moment before his own expression darkened with anger. An order is it? Fine.

"My situation on the Enterprise has recently changed drastically _Sir_. It seems that Ah am no longer a productive member of this crew. My ability to resolve a certain problematic situation bears this out. All attempts Ah've made to bring about an acceptable outcome for all parties concerned have been painfully unsuccessful."

Jon's hostility dissipated upon realizing that Trip hurt deeply. He tried to show his regret as Trip continued.

"Unless someone decides the topic is up for discussion, then Ah don't see what choice Ah have."

Trip waited expectantly.// Come on Jon, you can't want to lose this. // He watched his best friend stare at the desk while a finger absently ran along the edge. Trip shivered slightly as he relived the last time that finger traced the slope of his own backside. God he didn't want to lose this either.

"Do you remember I was surprised when T'Pol said Dr. Phlox was already waiting for Malcolm in the transporter room? Like it was a given that he would be hurt?"

Jon watched patiently as Trip tried to think back to that moment. The older man released his body's tension when he saw the Chief Engineer's expression soften at the recollection. Trip offered the concession of taking a seat, since Jon seemed willing to open up...to talk.

"Yeah...Ah remember...you were wonderin how T'Pol knew."

Jon smiled slightly as Trip leaned closer, propping his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between his legs. It had been a long while since the younger man sat with him in that familiar comforting position.

"Actually, it was Dr. Phlox who knew to be waiting for Malcolm."

Tripped nodded for Jon to continue.

"When I asked him, how he knew, the Doc said it seemed that Malcolm was 'fated' to always get hurt on away missions."

Trip tried to interrupt, knowing exactly where this was going. Jon shook his head.

"I started to think back. Every time Malcolm or you, for that matter, got hurt, it was because I made a command decision to dismiss my Armory Officer's concerns. So is that it? Both of you are forever fated to be placed in danger because of me? That is simply unexceptable. Then it really hit me, hit me hard, Trip...when Malcolm just about threw his contempt at my face." Jon's own face went white with the memory.

"You mean when he told you to humor him and listen to his paranoid request," The older man nodded, "Jon...he didn't mean..."

But the Captain wouldn't have it. "No, Trip he was angry before we even went down to Xlaysia. And as fate would have it, I ignored his concerns again and he was hurt again. The only conciliation is that he didn't die and that you weren't hurt. For that I'm eternally grateful to the fates and Doctor Phlox. And am quite prepared to not let fate have it's way again.

Trip stood up abruptly, almost upsetting the chair. Pressing both hands to the desk he leaned forward inches from Jon's face threateningly.

"Are you just about finished? Cause that, mah friend, is just a load of BULLSHIT!"

Jon blinked and opened his mouth to retort.

"NO! Yer done...mah turn now." Trip straightened up and walked around the desk to Jon's chair. Spinning it to face him, Trip crouched down and grabbed Jon by the shoulders as he had down so many weeks ago. Trying to keep his frustration in check, Trip began.

"Jon, did it ever occur ta you ta ask Phlox what he meant by 'fate'? Maybe he wasn't implyin that _you_ always get Mal hurt. Maybe he was sayin Mal is so dedicated ta his job that he'd do everything in his power ta protect us...ta protect you. And cause he's the man that he is, he's bound to get hurt."

Jon didn't seem convinced.

"What about what Malcolm said? Trip, the scorn in his voice...I'll never forget it."

"Jon...he was trying ta get you and me ta safety. It's his duty after all. He knows you. Knows you wouldn't leave him or any crewmember behind. So he did the only thing he knew would work. He made you feel guilty on purpose. Not wantin any argument, he knew exactly what ta say ta hurt you...enough so you'd do as you were told."

Jon sat deep in thought for a moment and Trip knew he was replaying every event, every spoken word.

"No, you're wrong...I...I don't believe you. He meant it, Trip."

"You're right...maybe you shouldn't believe me. Ah'm speakin for someone else. Oh...but that's right...you haven't had a chance ta ask Mal...since you haven't been speakin ta him or me."

It was Trip's turn to guilt Jon into action. If Mal could do it, so could he. Trip pressed on.

"If you had bothered to talk ta him, you'd a found out he loves you."

Hazel eyes locked with sky blue ones as the revelation hit and finally soaked a parched soul.

"Yep...admitted it out loud...loves you and me both. Loves you and me soooo much that he pushed himself away from us so that we would stay together."

A brief expression of understanding crossed Jon's face.

"What?" Trip questioned in confusion.

Jon grabbed the other datapad on the desk and held it aloft.

"This is one Lieutenant Malcolm Reed's request for transfer off the Enterprise."

"WHAT!" Trip sputtered lividly, "Well, that's just got to be the stupidest thing. Ah called him an idiot and here he goes and proves it ta me again!"

"Really, you called him an idiot? That wouldn't by any chance be when you two argued yesterday would it?"

"Yeah...called you one too."

Trip ran a hand reflexively through his hair. He knew somehow he'd blown the argument but wasn't quite sure how yet.

"I see...I'm an idiot for avoiding you both and Mal's an idiot for wanting to transfer...and you..."

Jon stopped for a moment watching Trip think it through. // Wait for it...wait for it...//

"Aw...shit! I'm an idiot for doing the same stupid thing." Trip dropped his head and shook it in disgust.

"Bingo." Jon felt an odd sense of satisfaction.

Trip gave him a withering glare. "Oh no...Ah'm not down for the count yet! First off...don't you think maybe talkin to Mal might be a good idea? It's only what he deserves as a good officer serving his Captain."

Jon hated it when Trip sounded so logical. Trip leaned into him again.

"And secondly...change it."

"What? Change what?" Jon searched the face that meant so much.

"Fate...change it, Jon. You think it's about what yer doin...then change it. Make it about somethin more than Mal and I getting hurt. Make it about somethin deeper.

Trip closed the gap between their lips. Jon's were so different from Malcolm's, both incredible in their own way. He couldn't wait to see Jon's reaction to kissing Malcolm for the first time.

Jon's eyes slipped closed at this first delicious contact in weeks. God he missed this. He didn't want to lose it. He opened his mouth slightly to let Trip slip in, but the younger man pulled away instead. Damn.

"Ah never did ask. You _do_ care for Malcolm, right?"

Jon remembered how he and Trip danced around for years before finally admitting weeks ago that they did indeed love each other. And it seemed it was all going the same way with Malcolm until the Brit almost died. No...he wasn't going to repeat that same mistake.

"Yes, Trip, I love him. As much...as much as I love you."

Trip grinned, "Well then I guess it's 'fate' Cap'n. He loves us both and I love you both. We were meant to be together."

Jon's smile was unsure. Trip stood up shaking his head. Jon still needed to hear it from Malcolm.

"Permission to be excused, Cap'n." Jon blinked up from his thoughts at Trip.

"Permission granted, Commander. I assume this can be disregarded?" Jon held up the datapad once more.

"No, Sir...my request still stands." Jon was crestfallen. "As long as you and Malcolm act like idiots, Ah think Ah have every right to be one too."

Jon frowned at the implied challenge.

"Fix this, Jon." Trip dared before he turned and walked through the doors.

### 14.

He wasn't in his biobed. Jon searched a bit more frantically. In fact, Malcolm Reed wasn't to be found anywhere in Sickbay. Jon scrubbed his face in frustration.

Waiting until his usual nightly visit to finally talk with the Armory Officer may not have been such a good idea after all. Jon had been on edge the entire day. Every worst case scenario he could imagine danced through his mind during his shift and this evening. He hadn't thought that stewing most of yesterday and today without a word from either his Captain or the Commander might take its toll on Malcolm as well.

Taking one last glance around the biobed Jon made his way back out to the Sickbay reception area. Once again, but less surprisingly this time, Dr. Phlox was waiting for him with his usual enigmatic smile.

"He will likely need this." The Denobulan held up a robe.

Jon took it asking what he already knew. "Not so good today?"

"No...I'm afraid not. He was quite restless the entire day, as though he might have been waiting for something or someone?"

The inflection in the alien's voice clearly implied whom exactly.

"The Ensigns came to check on him, but they did not appear to be who he was waiting for. Fortunately, they were able to keep him entertained. Unfortunately, it was only momentary. By late this evening, the Lieutenant was quite done in."

Jon caught the slight admonishment in the Doctor's tone. Dr. Phlox, for his part, continued with more sympathy as he saw regret work across the human's features.

"My first guess would be the Armory or his quarters. However, I truly doubt he would be able to make it that far."

Jon nodded, thankful that the Doctor had taken some pity on him. "I'll check a few more places on my way there."

"You'll contact me immediately should my assistance be needed?"

"Yes, of course, and thank you Doctor."

"Don't thank me yet, Captain."

Clearly the Denobulan was wishing him good luck in getting through to the very willful patient.

* * *

Jon realized Malcolm hadn't heard the slight release of air when the doors opened to the Officer's Lounge. The smaller man continued to lean heavily against the hull as he gazed blankly out at the stars.

When Archer began to pay closer attention to the habits of his reclusive Armory Officer, early on he discovered the younger man's secret pleasure of coming here during the ship's quietest times. The assumption had always been that Malcolm would escape to the Armory, familiar ground, when he had to think, couldn't sleep, needed to hide. The Brit's uncanny ability to do the opposite of what people assumed, was one of the many things that attracted Jon to Malcolm.

Jon swallowed hard as he now received an unobstructed view of another Malcolm attraction. The smaller man held himself up by pressing his good hand to the wall. This caused the hospital gown to gape open revealing Malcolm's glorious backside. It was better than any thing Jon could have imagined.

Jon could see part of Malcolm's shoulder blade...an angular, elegant plane so like his incredible cheekbones. The curve gave way to a now much too lean lower back. Ribs protruded slightly and disappeared under tightly wrapped bandages. The gauze binding the Brit's slender waist momentarily reminded Archer of uncomfortable memories.

A heavy sigh and slight movement brought Jon's attention back to the oblivious Armory Officer. The back of the gown opened further to reveal Malcolm's tight and muscular ass. Jon gasped a held breath when the smaller man moved a leg causing a ripple of muscle to course through a taunt ass cheek.

As Jon noticed how pale and luminous Malcolm's skin was, his own skin darkened with a bloom of hot color. Deciding it best not to dwell too long on the perfect twin swells of beautiful flesh, Jon's eyes wandered lower. One powerful thigh was also bandaged tightly, Jon knew as a result of a vicious knife cut from the brutal Xlaysions. Still further Malcolm's legs tapered to sinewy calves and finally...bare feet.

Jon frowned...bare feet? It dawned on the Captain that his Armory Officer, whose health was far from 100% was roaming around Enterprise, bare foot, barely clothed and totally alone. All against Captain's orders. Clearly his throat, Jon began to speak.

Before he could utter one word, Malcolm caught the sound and startled. Turning swiftly the tired and wounded man couldn't get his legs to respond fast enough. Staggering and tangling he was sure to meet the deck hard. Closely his eyes and waiting for the pain to hit, Malcolm gulped as strong arms managed to catch hold of him before he fell. The Brit grimaced at the hard squeeze of pain on his dislocated arm. The hands relaxed slightly as Malcolm was gently lowered. Gray eyes suddenly went wide as a shock ran up his spine where flesh met cold floor. The Armory Officer realized what the Captain must have seen from behind. Oh bloody hell! Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut again.

### 15.

"Malcolm?"

He sensed Jon's strong body so close. Heard the note of concern in the voice that made him melt. Malcolm reluctantly opened his eyes and began struggling to sit up, injuries beginning to wake in discomfort.

Before the smaller man could cause himself real pain, Jon was sitting down on the ground directly behind Malcolm. After settling Reed between his legs, Archer tentatively hugged the wounded spirit close to his chest.

"Mal! Shhhhh...calm down...enough...stop fighting me...that's an order, Lieutenant!"

Malcolm froze instantly. Jon was at a loss of words as he stiffly held the unyielding frame. Both men labored for breath. After a moment Jon cautiously relaxed his arms. When the tense Brit continued to stay put, Jon began gently rubbing up and down the frail arms, hoping the measured rhythm would encourage the rigid body to acquiesce.

Ever so slightly Malcolm's body decompressed. Jon closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He leaned in closely to the smaller man's ear. So close that his warm breath was causing a rosy flush to creep up Malcolm's slender neck, finally reaching the tip of his delicate ear. The intimate reaction was not lost on Jon. Nor was the fact that the extraordinary backside he was craving earlier was now pressed into him.

Malcolm absently tilted his head as if to offer Jon a delectable piece of his throat. The older man found it difficult to resist the temptation of leaning in for a taste. Both men sat silently. Long enough that the quiet stretch became uncomfortable. Finally, Archer made movement to get up. Resting on his haunches Jon carefully arranged Malcolm's body in strong arms before standing them both up.

To his credit, Jon made no comment at the Brit's shocking fragileness. Nor did Malcolm notice the tenuous grip the older man had on his raging hormones. Casually glancing down, Jon smiled ruefully. He was painfully hard but, thank God, his rumpled uniform hid the evidence of his desire somewhat.

"Malcolm...I think we'd better get you back to Sickbay." Jon hoarsely whispered.

When Malcolm turned to face him, Jon tried to ignore the miserable expression on Malcolm's gaunt face. After making sure his charge was steady, the Captain moved a few steps away. Jon bit his lip trying to ignore the loss of Malcolm's warmth. It felt so like grief.

"Sir...I know that you're angry with me, as you should be. I...I hope that my transfer from the Enterprise will bring everything back to...to...where it should be."

Jon was taken aback and blinked for a moment at his Armory Officer who was now rubbing his good hand over his exhausted face. Angry at Malcolm? If anything the tact officer should be raging at his Captain for endangering members of his crew again.

"Well...Lieutenant...admittedly...some of your recent actions _do_ border on insubordination."

Malcolm dropped his hand in shock. Jon watched in fascination as an array of emotions played across his Armory Officer's face. Disbelief...hurt...shame...sadness. Finally Malcolm nodded in defeated resignation. So, he had been right after all.

"Trying to escape from Sickbay...recruiting two Ensigns as your accomplices...running...well limply dragging...around the ship unaided...and..." Jon coughed a bit, "quite a lot out of uniform I might add...oh...by the way this is for you."

Jon held open the robe, shaking it to encourage Malcolm to slip it on. For the second time Archer watched utterly enthralled as the smaller man's feeling moved across an angular face. Confusion...repentance...embarrassment. Finally Malcolm shyly stepped into the robe.

After Jon adjusted the soft material and much to Malcolm's surprise, the older man stepped closer to tie the belt securely. Once again close enough to watch a blush creep along pale skin, Jon did not release his hold on the belt...on Malcolm.

"Those are pretty serious offenses, Mr. Reed, but certainly not ones that warrant a transfer."

Bewildered Malcolm began to protest. He quieted as soon as the Captain shot him a hard look and gave a firm tug on the belt. To his regret, the action caused Malcolm to wince in slight pain.

"However, I can't excuse you're behavior towards Commander Tucker. Discarding Trip on a whim, without a care or a thought is unacceptable and just plain pisses me of Malcolm."

// Here it comes //

For the third time Jon watched in slight fear as pure anger passionately flashed across those breathtaking features. Malcolm's jaw began to work furiously. Brow pressed downward, mouth set in a grim frown he tried to keep from yelling. For his part, Jon was having difficulty keeping the smirk that threatened hidden away.

"WHAT?!! JON!! HOW COULD THINK SUCH A THING! I NEVER...I COULDN'T...I'D SOONER...I...I...

"I like it when you call me Jon." And with that Jon Archer pulled Malcolm Reed by the belt on his robe in for scorching kiss.

### 16.

Malcolm's eyes widened before slipping shut at the heavenly sensation of Jon's lips on his. So different from Trip's, but just as marvelous. With just a nudge Jon more than willingly opened his mouth to Malcolm's questing tongue. At the initial contact, taste and swirl of tender flesh both men murmured in delight.

Malcolm wasn't sure if his head was swimming from finally getting part of his wish or from his first jaunt out of Sickbay. In any case, his legs began to weaken and he slowly began to slip down and out of Jon's grip.

Jon frowned his frustration and almost whined in protest as the smaller man started to pull away from him. Very quickly he realized that Malcolm was losing the ability to remain standing. Worried Jon carefully enfolded him in his arms and moved towards one of couches in the room.

"God, I'm sorry, you shouldn't be on your feet. Hell, Malcolm, you shouldn't be out of Sickbay."

Jon admonished while arranging the Brit comfortably on the cushions. Malcolm had to admit that his whole body was most definitely aching due to the "unauthorized" release from Dr. Phlox's care. Of course, he would only make that admission to himself. He found that even holding his head up took too much energy. Dropping it back Reed was gratified to find soft pillows there. He lolled there motionless, eyes closed.

Jon watched anxiously as Malcolm collapsed onto the couch. He nervously chewed on his lower lip when his Armor Officer seemed to disappear into the seats. It was too much like when his battered body dissolved in the litter being carried to Sickbay so many weeks ago.

Archer shook the memory away. They had no idea then if Malcolm would live or die. But as so many times before the Brit surprised them all by tenaciously hanging on. There was certainly no reason to dwell on sad memories now. The younger man's persistence, while at time exasperating, was another reason why Jon was so attracted to Malcolm. Backside and now, superb lips were pretty high on the list too.

Allowing a small smile, Jon quietly took a seat on the edge of the couch and studied the resting man for a moment. New, more arousing thoughts continued to steal into the Captain's imagination. What would Malcolm and Trip look like together? Such different bodies and souls entwined. Touching...feeling...pale skin sliding against darker...blissful. Jon shook his head and hastily rearranged himself so that his hardening cock wouldn't be so painfully pinched.

The jostling brought Malcolm's attention back. Eyes opened to a squirming uncomfortable Captain. Jon's fussing stopped as he caught sight of the younger man watching him.

"Is something wrong, Captain?"

A smirk implied in the tone. He knew exactly what was wrong.

"Uh...no...nothing at all, Lieutenant. This seat is just a little tight and I was trying to get comfortable." Please let Malcolm believe him.

"You're _what_ is a little tight? I didn't quite catch that, Sir."

Hazel eyes glittered as they caught gray blue deepening to cobalt with amusement.

"I see you have a grasp of the situation, Mr. Reed." Jon fired back. He could play this with the best of them.

"Mmmmmmm...not quite...not quite, Captain." This time Malcolm snickered, his good hand coming to support his injured side.

Noticing the gesture, but not wanting to scold, Jon leaned forward and brushed a stray lock of Malcolm's hair back. Smiling down at the younger man he absently continued playing with the silky strands.

"I surrender, you win. I have no ammunition against that sharp wit of yours. Oh...unless this counts."

Jon stole another kiss wiping the smugness off of Malcolm's face and replacing it with utter rapture. The Brit's hand twitched slightly lost until it found a home in Jon's golden hair. He gripped hard never wanting to leave that treasured spot. Without realizing Malcolm twisted towards Jon lifting hips in supplication. He wanted more contact but the movement caused a twinge of pain that Jon also sensed. It reminded them both...not yet.

Pulling back slightly they were flush and breathing deeply through kiss-swollen lips. Ironically, both swallowed hard and watched their adam's apples glide evenly. Sharing the intimate movement made them look at each other with renewed pleasure and both chuckled. With one last kiss on Malcolm's forehead Jon straightened up.

"You know...you really should warn me when you're going to do that."

Jon brushed imaginary lint from his uniform, pretending not to know what Malcolm was harping about.

"I don't think so, Mr. Reed. It's the only time I seem to have the upper hand with you."

"You're my Commanding Officer you'll always have the upper hand, Sir." Malcolm continued blithely.

Jon froze, he knew it wasn't meant as an accusation, but it easily could have been. He would have deserved it, too. Malcolm waiting for a retort watched in dismay as the older man who had charmingly been flirting just a moment ago, turned pale as death itself. This lovely moment they were sharing vanished.

Malcolm pushed himself up on his good elbow, not the smartest thing for protesting ribs and a deep healing injury, although these things he could handle. But he had reached his limit for emotional endurance and wanted to be done with it once and for all. Liking the the outcome or not.

"What? Tell me what you're thinking? I've bloody damn well been wondering for quite some time. Why don't you just put me out of my misery? I failed again, Captain. I'm well aware of that. Is it Trip? As I've said to Trip, as much as I love you both, it's not proper for you to be separated from each other and I don't want to be the cause. It's these reasons why I felt it best to request a transfer."

Running out of steam, Malcolm flopped back down in abject defeat.

"As I indicated before, Sir, I hope things will be as they should after I'm gone." The weary voice trailed off and an arm draped over burning eyes.

"No wonder Trip called you an idiot."

### 17.

Malcolm pulled his arm away from his eyes blinking incredulously. Glancing askance at Jon he was greeted by crossed armed annoyance. Annoyed? Malcolm felt his own irritation build.

"If I remember the conversation correctly, I believe the Commander called you an idiot as well, Sir." When he wanted to, Malcolm could sting.

"Oh...and I suppose you're in agreement with that assessment, Lieutenant?"

"Actually...no...having a greater comprehension of proper English my descriptions for either of your intelligence levels would be more...befitting. Malcolm was getting cheeky.

"Really...why don't you share some of these...more appropriate terms." Jon was getting more challenging.

"As you command, Sir."

Lying back on the couch in robe, hospital gown, and barefeet Malcolm began to stroke his chin with a contemplative air. Much like a professor during class. It was utterly ludicrous and comical. And enough for Jon to lose some of the temper that had flared up. Still curious he let the Brit continue.

"The "I" words are good I think. Imbecile...ignoramus. Then there's...dolt...simpleton. Of course, there are kinder ones as well. Halfwit...implies that at least there's half a brain in there somewhere. Nitwit...really is worse...means nothing's in there at all. Not really sure about dimwit...suppose it means there are brains in there but their simply too hard to find. Moron...dullard..."

"Yes...well...I get the idea..."

"Clod is rather a good one for Trip. Don't you agree?"

"Malcolm...no need to..."

"Then there's the rather whimsical ones. Booby...ninny...nincompoop. Fancy yourself a nincompoop, Sir?"

Jon began to squirm uncomfortably caught in Malcolm's cool expectant scowl. Brusquely standing up, he began to pace the room. Looking back at the smaller man, Jon noticed the expression hadn't change. Malcolm still waited. Jon grabbed a chair and pulled it close to the couch before nervously plopping down in it.

"When...when you said I'd always have the upper hand, " Jon hesitated fidgeting with his hands, "it...it had an unpleasant ring of truth. On my orders...no matter how much you try to warn...I'll always be responsible for putting your life in danger."

"You...you think I'm angry with you for my being injured?"

"Aren't you Mal? What was it you said...listen to me for once...let me feel like I'm doing my job?"

"Captain...Jon, if you had bothered to come and ask me I would have told you that I love you and Trip more than my own life. And as much as that's true, it's equally true you would never leave a crewmember behind. For my own selfish relief I deliberately went after you...made you feel guilty so you'd be docile enough to go."

Malcolm reached a hand to grasp Jon's.

"Believe me...I don't blame you for this at all. It came down to either making you think I did or you and Trip remaining in danger. I'll hurt your feelings any day, Captain, if it means you stay alive. You didn't make me take this job. I do it because I want to. Being perfectly aware of the consequences, I still have no desire to do anything else...be anywhere else."

Each regarded the other quietly for a moment longer. Just as he had weeks ago, Malcolm tried to convey in his expression and demeanor that there was no other truth. He wasn't angry...he loved Jon and Trip...more than ever he wanted them both and now.

"Trip knew you'd say that."

"Well then maybe he's not a clod after all."

"He requested a transfer off the Enterprise, as well."

"Well then he's a bigger bloody clod than I originally thought."

Again each regarded the other warily. Finally both grinned as peace offering. Jon pulled himself out of the chair before dropping to his knees before Malcolm. Something of a deep understanding and lasting connection passed between the two before Jon delicately draped his arm over the man and nibbled at Malcolm's jaw.

"Oh cor...don't stop."

Jon's eyes peaked up at the term he'd never heard his Armory Officer utter before. Malcolm was absolutely radiant as Archer continued to kiss along the sharp angle. He cataloged this bit of information about Mal's highly sensitive jaw for later application. Jon wondered what other declarations he and Trip might be able to get out of the Brit.

Trip...although this felt good and right, the ache for his best friend was there...solid and gripping. Malcolm knew immediately what, or rather who, was on Jon's mind when the older man stopped torturing him.

"Shall we go find out what Trip thinks of being called a clod?" Malcolm grinned wickedly.

Jon looked down with affection, he knew Malcolm would feel the same way.

"I can just imagine the righteous indignation that's going to be aimed at you. I'd really like to see that."

"Me? I'm quite sure Trip will make sure everyone in the room gets a proper earful."

Jon's eyebrows raised as a plan started to formulate. Malcolm had never seen that expression on his Commanding Officer's face before. But he was pretty sure it was the same deranged look he used to give Travis when planning some crazy stunt back in the day.

"What is that nincompoop mind of yours planning. Should I be afraid?"

"Not at all. I'm thinking why give Trip a chance to do anything but...moan...sigh...whimper?" And make you do the same, while I'm at it. Jon kept the luscious thought to himself.

"Ooooooo...I like it already, but I don't think I'm up to doing much but watching." Malcolm slyly smiled.

"I had no idea you were a voyeur, Mr. Reed."

Jon spoke seriously as he helped Malcolm to his feet. "Really, Mal, let's get you back to Sickbay. You've done too much already and I'm just a little scared of Phlox."

"And miss out on listening to Mr. Tucker moan and whimper? No, bloody way in hell. Lead on, Captain."

"We can wait until you're up to Mal."

Reed stopped and straightened as best he could before facing Archer. Weary, aching and almost helpless he pushed the older man away to stand on his own. Fierce gray eyes caught and held concerned golden green ones.

"No Jon...we can't wait. He's alone, wondering. I don't think I can bear that. I know you can't either."

Jon checked over his Armory Officer one more time. While not really pleased with what he saw, he also knew Malcolm wouldn't budge on this. Ordering him back to Sickbay wasn't really an acceptable choice either. Maybe if he got to see Trip, make sure everything was all right, the equally stubborn Southerner could get Malcolm to obey. And Malcolm was right, Jon couldn't bear the thought of Trip alone and unhappy another minute either. Giving in, Jon nodded and pulled Malcolm close to offer support as they made their way to the Commander's quarters.

"Thank you, Jon."

"By the way, Lieutenant..."

"Sir?"

"Your request for transfer is denied."

"Yes, Sir, I understand."

"God, it felt good to say that."

### 18.

He dragged back to his quarters after a particularly miserable day. Hell, lately all his days seemed miserable. The relay overhaul that was started yesterday stalled continuously due to minor equipment glitches, human error and just plain dumb luck. Instead of being able to finish today as scheduled the project was now going to delay until late tomorrow.

Dirty, sweaty and aggravated Trip had no interest in dinner or contact with fellow crewmates. He simply wanted to shower, drop into bed and end this shitty day so he could wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed to tomorrow's shitty day.

Stepping into his quarters he toed off boots, stripped uniform, under shirt, skivvies and socks in a perfect trail to the bathroom. He turned the water on as hot as his skin could take and stepped in. Propping both arms against the wall, he dropped his head under the steady stream.

Normally, this would feel good. Normally, he enjoyed the steam roiling around him. Normally, he welcomed the images of Jon and Malcolm wrapped in each other as water and steam enveloped their naked bodies. Normally, the thought of Malcolm trailing down Jon's body made Trip reach for his own thick member. Normally, Trip strained for release right along with the imagined lovers. Normally, he didn't feel so alone.

Pounding a clenched fist on the wall, Trip ignored his now hard cock. Turning the faucet to cold, he grabbed viciously for the soap. He quickly lathered and rinsed off. Practically ripping the towel from its hook he roughly dried himself while tracking back into the main room of his cabin. He sat heavily on his bunk and fumbled the towel in his hands.

Since yesterday he hadn't heard a peep from either Jon or Malcolm. Mal he could understand. The man was already struggling and Phlox watched him like a hawk. Trip pulled the towel close, but it offered no warmth or comfort. He missed the Brit.

Trip loved those quirky little smiles that would appear on the Armory Officer's face. Sometimes it seemed for no apparent reason. These were the times that Trip was tempted to ask what the smaller man was smiling about. He never did ask, being pretty sure Malcolm wouldn't tell anyway. "Smiling Commander? I don't recall smiling. What a rather odd question." Trip had to smile himself at the thought of Malcolm denying it...all the while a secretive one probably still plastered on his lips.

Thinking back over the past year, a lot of those secret smiles were probably because of Jon. Trip angrily tossed the towel away from his body and flopped back on the bed. Absently he swung his dangling legs to ease his tension. He should have at least heard from Jon today.

Since Engineering was a disaster, Trip had no call to go up to the Bridge. Still, the Captain might have checked in with the Chief Engineer for a progress report...a good morning...how are you...I miss you...I still love you.

He twisted his body and crawled under his sheets. Trip replayed all the times since they admitted their feelings for each other that Jon had surprised him with the declaration. Saying "I love you" at the oddest times in the strangest places became a pleasurable tease. In the turbolift just before the doors swooshed open...in the Officer's Mess just behind T'Pol as she stepped in to join them. Jon made sure he never did it while they were on duty, well just maybe a hair before or after sometimes.

Trip began to slip into exhausted slumber mentally chuckling at the thought of Jon blurting out "I love you" to Malcolm in some totally inappropriate place. He could just imagine the Englishman's face in response.

### 19.

"Some Security Officer you turned out to be."

Jon teased as Malcolm continued to fumble with the access panel to Commander Tucker's quarters. Malcolm just shot him a withering glare.

"I love you."

This stopped the Brit dead. Malcolm's expression was speechless surprise as he blinked up at a very self-satisfied Captain. The younger man shook his head ruefully, half-smile in place as he continued to work.

"Why are you smiling?" Jon asked slyly.

"Smiling...am I smiling? Really...I think you're imagining things, Jon."

Malcolm blasted the older man with a 100-kilowatt grin when the door swooshed open. Grabbing a surprised Archer by the collar and pulling him down and closer, the smaller man whispered back.

"Oh, by the by, I love you too."

After planting a "you're mine" kiss on Jon's parted lips, Malcolm let go and limped into the dark room. Jon straightened up, brushed himself into some semblance of the Commanding Officer that he was and bounded in after his Armory Officer.

"Shhhhhhhh...you're like a herd of bleedin elephants!" Malcolm whispered the scold.

"Wanna feel my trunk?" Jon spluttered a quiet snicker.

"Good God! I've just realized you're bloomin mad! Enterprise is in the hands of madman! I've fallen for a luna..."

A groan slipped into the room from somewhere by the corner. Both men quieted and waving a hand about until they could locate each other. Arm in arm they made their way to Trip's bunk.

"Oof!" Jon stumbled but Malcolm kept a hold of him as best he could.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Malcolm hissed in a hushed tone.

Feeling around on the ground Jon found Trip's boots and other articles of clothing. The man leered but realized Malcolm couldn't see it. "If I'm not mistaken Commander Tucker's entire uniform is on the floor."

"His entire uni...you mean to say he's lying in bed sound asleep and completely naked?" Malcolm barely squeaked at their exceptional luck.

"Don't you throw your clothes all over the floor, Mr. Reed?"

Jon teased knowing full well the answer to that question. He doubted anything in Malcolm's quarters were a micro millimeter out of place.

"No Sir, I strategically place anti personnel mines all over my floor."

This time Malcolm snerked quietly.

"I'm the madman?"

Tugging on Archer's arm Reed moved closer to the sound of deep breathing. Both men groped for the edge of the bunk. Once they were able to get a feel for the location and position of headboard, pillows and sheets, hands tentatively quested for the ultimate prize.

Malcolm was the first to pull back his fingers as if burned. He had been searching closer to the wall when fingertips traced along a warm silky patch of skin. Smiling his success he began to trace lightly along the line to get a better idea of where exactly his hand had landed on the Chief Engineer's exquisite body. Following the curve up and over he was sure it was Trip's thigh. And when his long elegant digits ended up buried in a mass of tight, wiry, curls Malcolm realized just how high up Trip's thigh he really was.

The gasp and jerk back brought Jon's hand to Malcolm's shoulder with a worried squeeze. Malcolm patted it to comfort. He lifted the strong, warm hand and gently pulled it to follow. He could feel Jon's larger build move in closer as they both touched Trip's hipbone together. Malcolm heard Jon's sharp intake of breath. Jon felt Malcolm's hesitation to touch.

Jon silently moved his hand so it was now over Malcolm's and in control. With an encouraging squeeze he guided the sleek, elegant fingers to lightly run along Trip's muscular thigh. Almost immediately goose bumps began to dimple. Malcolm made a small sound of delight at the unexpected reaction.

Jon moved his future lover's hand over his current lover's strong and lean torso searching for those places that were his favorites. Together they moved across Trip's washboard stomach. The sleeping man keened and flexed causing the two hands to stop their exploration.

When Trip's deep breathing signaled his continued slumber, Jon aimed Malcolm's hand towards the fine line of hair just under the belly button. Together they worked their way up and swirled around the edge of the opening. Again, Trip's reaction was immediate. Gasping a quick intake of breath caused his stomach to pull down and away from the teasing hands.

Waiting patiently for Trip to settle back into deep sleep, Jon caressed his Brit's hand along his Southerner' ribs. Apparently fascinated by each even rise, Jon felt Malcolm's slight reluctance to move onward. A gentle tug on the smaller fingers urged it to chase along the ribcage to a nipple. Jon beamed as he heard twin gasps in the dark. Adjusting Malcolm's hand slightly, Jon flicked his own finger over Trip's nipple. The sleeping man moaned in pleasure as the areola began to pebble and harden. Next Jon took Malcolm's fingertip and traced along its edge. Both men felt a shiver run through their own bodies as Trip arched into the intimate contact and whimpered.

Jon changed his hold on Malcolm's hand flattening the palm as they brushed through the light sprinkle of Trip's chest hair. Letting go each petted worshipping circles through the downy softness...occasionally glancing against each other.

On the next stroke of Malcolm's questing hand, Jon caught hold again and migrated towards the slight bump of Trip's collarbone. After one circuit he dipped their fingers into the hollow between. To Malcolm's surprised ecstasy Jon suddenly brought their clasped hands to his lips and sucked in their index fingers. Jon's velvety tongue swirled as Malcolm felt his own cock wake from semi hardness to full desperate erection.

While still dazed and flustered the Brit felt Jon place their fingers back into the dip just bellow Trip's lovely neck. This time the sleeping man went rigid as if paralyzed and uttered a demanding cry.

"JON!"

Malcolm's cock twitched violently, feeling certain he could come just from hearing that husky voice callout a lover's name. To his disbelief Trip still seemed asleep.Though, with a marked restlessness judging from the rustling of naked flesh along crisp sheets. The images those noises created were enough to make Malcolm squirm as well.

It was Jon's turn to groan when Malcolm's fingers encircled the older man's wrist and brought it up to his own lips for a long lick and sweet kiss in the palm as if to show appreciation for the guided tour.

"Mal..." Jon pleaded his name when the Brit blew along the wet trail.

Hand still around wrist, Malcolm hovered them down Trip's long lean body. At exactly the spot he had touched the delectable body the first time Reed pressed Jon's hand down and around Trip thick penis.

Jon's mind swam at the overload of stimulation. His and Malcolm's hand around Trip's familiar and incredible cock...Trip grinding and moaning into the contact...and finally Malcolm fumbling to find his lips for a urgent kiss.

When he pulled back for air, Malcolm hovered by Jon's ear. Jon felt the painful pinch in his crotch again as a hoarse whisper commanded.

"I want to _hear_ you make love to him. Jon...I want to listen to Trip coming with you."

### 20.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut as memories of what Malcolm begged for crept to his groin and made him ache. He hadn't been with Trip in weeks and desperately wanted to obey. But the deeper urge was to wait until Malcolm was whole...could join in...be where he belonged...together with them.

"Mal...no...no...we should just wake him...I...I...want...us..." but before Jon could explain, Malcolm pressed closer and stole another breathtaking kiss. Jon whined as the smaller man ran his tongue along his lips all the while mimicking the strokes with their hands on Trip's cock. The Southerner continued to squirm into the firm warmth of palms and fingers.

"Please Jon...I've thought about the two of you...touching...kissing...making love. I want to know what you're like together. I don't want to wait until I'm better. Let this happen for me and Trip." Malcolm's pleading lick along Jon's ear couldn't be refused.

"Alright, but so far you've been issuing all the orders, Mr. Reed. I think it's my turn to demand something."

Malcolm gasped partly in surprise, but mostly in exhilaration as Jon moved his free hand under the robe and gown and over the smaller man's firm cock. Pressing his advantage Jon leaned in and forcefully took Malcolm's mouth while giving both his lovers a sweet tug. Warm, slick and clever tongues made both men wonder...anticipate _other_ future explorations.

It was unbelievably erotic to have the two most important people in his life literally in the palm of his hands. In the dark the sense of touch became more acute...focused. Jon leisurely traced every detail of each lover...comparing and contrasting.

Trip, thick and heavily veined was hot to the touch. Having recently become intimate lovers, Jon knew the blonde murmured incoherently when a tongue traced along each of these ridges. He remembered too how Trip's penis would burn hotter just before orgasm. Every time Jon felt as though his body and soul were branded as belonging to Trip. The thought...the sensation...never failed in pushing him over the edge of an intense orgasm.

Malcolm, was an unexpected and glorious surprise. How did that ancient earth saying go? "Good things come in small packages?" With his slight frame, Jon always fantasized the Brit with smaller details. Jon now clutched greedily around a lovely gift. Malcolm was decidedly not smaller, but rather quite a bit larger than Trip or Jon. Malcolm's cock only just thinner than Trip's was longer. A very slight taper met a large, solid head. Jon smiled in the dark at finding a sticky drop of pre cum poised at the small opening. Jon absently swirled as Malcolm muffled a grunt. Where Trip bulged veins, Malcolm was smoother, except for the large ridge that ran the underside of his length. As Jon caressed along it, he found that the Brit reacted in much the same way as the Southerner. What Malcolm murmured was just as incoherent as Trip. Jon stopped his exploration at the plead.

"Jon...you...you...have to stop. I...I...don't think..."

"Shhhhh...don't think, Mal...just listen."

Jon reluctantly let go of his lovers. Encircling Malcolm with his comforting arms he gently guided the smaller man to sit on the bunk. Back against the headboard, close to Trip's head, Jon made sure Malcolm was comfortable and in no pain. With one last hungry kiss he moved away and farther down the bunk. Malcolm leaned his head back and closed his eyes in anticipation. Heavy steady breathing...the smell of Jon and Trip...the slow pull of a zippered uniform sent a spark straight through Malcolm settling in his excruciatingly lonely cock.

### 21.

He was lying on a bed in a completely white room. Though unusual for him to sleep in the nude, he oddly wasn't surprised or self-conscious. He vaguely remembered being upset earlier, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what about.

A crisp white sheet draped over him, but he pushed it away feeling free without it. Turning to his side he found himself looking out a huge picture window to a bright blue sky. A breeze drifted past the sheers causing shadows to play over the stunning color.

He could hear the call of what seemed to be seabirds over the constant waves of an ocean. He listened contently to the sounds that more and more sounded like whispers from two very familiar and well loved voices. At times happy, pleading and erotic they drifted around the room and finally settling somewhere behind him.

Turning around Trip searched the room with anticipation. He wasn't disappointed. Seated comfortably in an overstuffed chair was a crossed-legged Malcolm with one of his usual small quirky smiles. Seated on the arm of the chair close to the Armory Officer was Jon. Hazel eyes glittering with affection and mirth as he leaned towards Malcolm whispering in his ear. Both men were in gauzy white. Jon's darker skin glowed through the thin fabric, while Malcolm's unbuttoned shirt bared a well-toned chest. Trip decided this view was more beautiful than the sky now behind him.

When Malcolm noticed that Trip was watching them he touched Jon's knee intimately getting the older man's attention. Grey blue eyes, along with golden green ones, shone with tenderness and fondness. Trip knew his own sky blue eyes reflected the same feelings.

With a slight push off the chair Jon stood up and turned to Malcolm offering a hand. Taking it gratefully, Malcolm stood up next to the taller man. Trip was glad to see the Brit was glowing his usual good health. Still hand in hand, a sleek, robust, unscathed body pressed into the powerful, muscular one for a luxurious kiss before they made their way towards Trip.

Trip scooted back making room for his lovers to sit on the edge of the bed. Trip knew what was coming and closed his eyes to happily await his fate. When long, fine fingers traced a pattern on his thigh then moved towards his groin, Trip found it difficult to articulate the incredible feeling. At best he could only keen his delight at what was surely Malcolm's hand.

Trip felt the goose bumps prickle as two hands together began exploring him. He felt himself begin to harden and felt a familiar ache radiate from his groin. He knew exactly where those hands were going...Jon's favorite spots. Trip twisted, moaned, arched and groaned when each new goal was reached and teased by both hands. At one point Trip was sure he called out Jon's name in a plead to stop...do more...finish him off...anything.

His plea must have been heard because both hands finally wrapped around and stroked his cock with twin urgency. Trip squirmed and writhed wanting more. He whimpered his displeasure when both hands pulled away from him.

Jon moved Malcolm to sit by Trip's head and stepped back to look at both lovingly. Jon quickly removed his clothes while continuing to closer to the end of the bed. Malcolm began to tenderly stroke through Trip's golden strands. Trip lifted slightly and propped on his elbows to look for Jon when he felt additional weight settle on the bed.

The well missed beautiful body descended between his thighs. Jon's soft eyes caught with Trip's as feather light kisses were randomly bestowed everywhere. Trip's hands gripped desperately at the sheets as he helplessly watched Jon tease.

"Ughhhh! Christ! Jon!"

Trip finally could barely verbalize as the older man licked along a prominent vein on the side of his cock. He knew Jon wouldn't stop licking, kissing, or nipping until every inch of Trip's member was mapped out to the Captain's satisfaction.

Feeling a gentle stroke through his hair and then an erotic swirl of a finger around his collarbone Trip dropped his head back to a radiant Malcolm. At first joyful to be in the arms of his other lover, Trip frowned in remembrance. He's mind swam and struggled. He reluctantly began to pull away from Jon, feeling somehow that doing this wasn't quite right.

The white room began to dim and finally darken. Trip struggled in his sleep. Finally, eyes fluttered to wakefulness at the sound of a delicious moan. It was just a dream. But in the dark of his quarters, Trip was struck by the reality that he had moaned because a very familiar wet, hot mouth swallowed his cock deeply and began to suck with careless abandon.

Trip knew he should be mad at Jon for breaking into his room, but how could he want this to stop? Not meaning to, Trip began to meet Jon's deep throating with a lift of his hips. Both men were now making voracious sounds as Trip moved closer to orgasm. Trip froze and lost some of his momentum when another, less recognized hand, reached to play with a nipple.

"WHAT THE HELL?! LIGHT FULL! AH DON'T BELIEVE THIS!"

### 22.

Trip scrambled up and out of their reach retreating to the back wall of the bunk. As both Jon and Malcolm started towards him to reassure, Trip held up a halting hand and shook his head.

"No...you...you...stay right where ya are! Both of ya!"

Not listening Malcolm tried to move in again. Trip shook an admonishing finger at him while pressing his lips together in disapproval. Malcolm wisely chose to sit still. Each eyed the other warily while Jon tried to push down the laugh that threatened. Trip hearing something suspiciously like a snicker from his best friend shot him a look that could kill.

"Oh ya think this is funny! Breakin and enterin and...and...ya know...other stuff," Trip motioned his hands around himself, "well Ah'm not feelin very amused at the moment."

Trip scrubbed the remaining sleep from his face with both hands.

"What _are_ you feeling, Trip?" Jon asked tentatively sitting back down on the bed.

"I'd like to know as well." Malcolm added while cautiously edging closer.

Trip peered at their expectant faces. Frowning he shook his head. These two men...stubborn...irascible...and at times like this...downright devious. Alone, each was already a handful. Trip smirked at that ironic thought. These two lovers...devoted...caring...passionate. Jon and Malcolm together became a force to reckon with. _His_ force to reckon with and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Ah'm angry!"

Malcolm inched closer.

"Confused. Ya both confuse the hell outta me! First...yer not speakin then suddenly one of ya wants to make love to me while the other watches! Did I miss a briefing or something?"

Jon shimmied in a bit more.

"Actually I was just going to listen." Malcolm corrected.

"Did Ah mention angry!"

"Well...actually...yes, you've mentioned that already." Malcolm added helpfully.

Jon glared the Englishman a "you're not helping" expression. The smaller man shrugged in apology.

"At you, Mal! Ah'm pissed as hell at you! You look like crap. Ah know you must feel like it too and here ya are gimping around the ship, barefoot no doubt, wearin nothin but that!"

Trip swallowed reflexively remembering exactly what was under the gown and robe.

"To top it off, ya break in...and don't deny it, Security Boy. Ah'll bet Jon suggested this, but _you_ bypassed mah code. And had Ah known ya had this...this fetish for watchin...uh listenin..."

"Security Boy, I like that." Jon interrupted chuckling as he leaned back against the wall very close to Trip.

"You'd have figured out a way to indulge me sooner." Malcolm settled in with a grimace against the wall on the opposite side of the Commander.

Both men had spoken at the same time. Trip's head whipped from one to the other. When had they managed to get next to him? He stared at their bare feet lined up at attention. He smiled at the smaller set. Even Malcolm's feet seemed to have a military bearing. He laughed out loud wondering if Mal's dick would have a military bearing too.

"Didn't he just say he was angry, twice, so why's he laughing?" Jon peered past Trip in mock confusion, "and would you stop trying to be helpful. You're only making it worse."

"I think he's daft." Malcolm whispered back, now also leaning past Trip to talk with Jon, "and you're right...best for me to shut my bloomin trap."

"Ya know...Ah'm sitting right here. It's not like Ah left the room."

Malcolm and Jon continued to ignore the Southerner.

"Hmmm...watching might have its advantages."

Malcolm quipped while scrutinizing a glorious Trip for the first time. Leaning forward just a tad more he also got his first eyeful of a very naked Jon.

Two sets of broad shoulders tapering down to trim and exquisitely sculpted abs. Different amounts of hair lightly dusted both broad chests. One all blonde, the other sprinkled through with slivery gray. Involuntarily licking his lips Malcolm noted that Trip's nipples were more of a dusky pink color, while Jon's reminded him of rich milk chocolate.

Nestled between twin sets of sinewy thighs were two glorious cocks. Trip's ample and ridged. Jon's, about the same size, was the same delicious milk chocolate color as his nipples. Crowned with a large head it just invited licking and nibbling.

Before Malcolm could explore any further he yelped at that crush of a warm hand on the back of his neck. Pulled back up to face an annoyed Trip, he was scolded.

"Leerin later...talkin now."

"Malcolm called you a clod." Jon offered smiling maliciously.

### 23.

"Don't you be tryin ta throw me off track. Ah'm just as mad at you, Jon." Pointing an accusing finger at his best friend. "And you..." looking back at Malcolm now, "we'll be talkin about that `clod' wisecrack later."

Malcolm's nod of pretend remorse was wiped from his face as Trip leaned in and planted a soul-searing kiss on his lips. Before the Brit could catch his breath Trip adjusted in to nibble along the smaller man's jaw line causing a desperate moan. Trip's plan to work along that special plane was stalled by his own pulse of pleasure when Jon unexpectedly wrapped a warm hand around his cock.

"Ah guess you two, kissed and made up...Oh God!?" Whispered Trip's hoarse voice as Jon slowly squeezed and pulled along his shaft.

"Mmmmmm...wanted to kiss and make out...um...make up with you too." Malcolm answered.

Taking advantage of the otherwise occupied pair Malcolm ran caressing, searching fingertips across both their chests, while licking and sucking along Trip's strong shoulder. The Brit was pleasantly surprised that Jon could be just as incoherent as Trip or himself.

"Uhhhhhh...Ga, Mal...don't...mphf."  
Trip pulled slightly away from Malcolm and slipped his tongue in Jon's now supplicating mouth. He hadn't tasted Jon in so long and reveled at the sweetness. Trip grinned sheepishly and shrugged at Jon's thoughtful look.

"Tongue tied...Ah thought Ah'd take advantage."

Malcolm snickered, pulling away from the luscious pair to lean back against the wall and close his eyes. Although relieved that they seemed to be moving in the right direction, truth be told, he was starting to hurt.

Keeping his eyes closed he continued to smirk as weight shifted on the bunk around him. Knowing both men as he did, Malcolm knew a great deal of silent communication was taking place. He wondered if Jon and Trip were aware that their expressions, gestures and postures were at times deafening.

"Trip, it was my idea," the movement around him froze as he continued, "please don't blame Jon...I'm fine...really."

"Malcolm, you don't look fine and quite frankly, you're scaring us." Jon spoke softly from somewhere in front of the Englishman.

Malcolm opened his tired blue grays to the deep concern and worry of jade greens and lavender blues before him. The Brit wondered if he ever would be able to "eye speak" as well as they did. He needn't have worried.

"We love you too, Mal."

It was Trip that verbally reaffirmed the tender regard. It was hands stroking along his bare legs that physically expressed their devotion.

Trip and Jon looked at the smaller man with skepticism. It finally became clear to Trip. Jon, big ole softy that he was, couldn't deny Malcolm anything. And as much as he hated to admit it, neither could the Chief Engineer. Even though Malcolm looked fragile, there was no denying the desire that swept off him with each breath, surrounding them all with need.

The Brit squirmed a bit as Trip's grim mouth turned salacious in an instant as he turned to whisper conspiratorially into Jon's ear. Archer's own expression was downright devilish as he continued to eye Malcolm. After a moment both men broke apart and began to move in closer to the now nervous Brit.

"Well Mal, we agree that ya shouldn't be needin or wantin for anythin."

Malcolm pressed closer into the wall, as he glanced between the two men. Both were now on either side of him gently but insistently tugging at his robe. Malcolm began shaking his head in alarm and protest.

"Oooooh...no...no...wait...Trip! Jon! I don't think I can...ssssssss." Malcolm sucked air through clenched teeth as both lovers began to gently nip along both sides of his jaw this time. "Cor blimey!"

Jon and Trip both stopped to glance affectionately at a now flush and oblivious Malcolm. Trip pushed the loosely draped robe off Mal's dislocated shoulder. While Jon kept teething along the highly sensitive jaw, Trip reached behind the smaller man's neck and undid two ties on the gown also pulling it down gently.

Trip and Jon stopped to admire the long lean neck and pale angles of Mal's collarbone. Trip, remembering his own dream, swirled a finger delicately around the deep hollow at the Brit's neck. When Jon moved him forward to pull robe and gown down farther on his side, Malcolm made to protest again. This time more fervently.

"Please don't! I don't look...it's hideous...I...I'm not what I used to be." Malcolm's undertone was dispirited.

Trip pulled him into coaxing and loving arms as Jon moved his own strong arms to wrap around Malcolm's shoulders and Trip's waist. Together they helped the wounded man to stand up.

With Malcolm leaning into Jon's supporting frame, Trip continued to remove the robe and gown. Before Mal could bite an objection Jon whispered warm breath in his ear.

"Now you listen to me Mr. Reed, no...you're not what you used to be. You're so much more to us. I don't think I could ever imagine a time I didn't want you and Trip and I know the feelings mutual."

Jon punctuated the point by pressing his hand into Malcolm's hard-on which in turn pushed the Brit's ass back into the older man's own answering cock.

"You say that you want and need us now. What makes you think it's any different for us? Mal, Trip and I want and need you just as much. We've all waited a long time...too long frankly...don't deny us either...please."

Malcolm swallowed reflexively as he reached back his good arm to brush a stubbled cheek lovingly and thankfully. Wet eyes gazed down affectionately at Trip who was now kneeling before him. Robe tossed to the side and gown mostly scrunched in the Southerner's hands one tug would completely uncover Malcolm to their critical scrutiny. Lust in his eyes, Trip picked up the lecture.

"And as for lookin hideous," Trip pulled off the garment and let it drop to Mal's feet. Eyes glittering with surprise, wonder and finally hunger, "Oh Jesus Christ! I...I...that's...damn...you're gorgeous, Mal!"

Trip enthused before grabbing hold of Mal and greedily sucking as much of the delicious length into his moist mouth as humanly possible. Not expecting it the smaller man gulped air as his knees buckled. Luckily Jon picked up most of his weight but soon began to stagger back as Malcolm reached back and corkscrewed his own grip around the older man's painfully aroused member. Plaintive whines from all three decidedly moved them from their precarious position.

Trip gave one last lick and suck before standing and moving in closer to the two men. Figure eighting his hips, Trip's penis made extraordinary contact with Malcolm's. With a murmur Trip tilted his head past Malcolm's stealing a sweet kiss from Jon. Jon moved around next to Trip and together stumbled the Brit back to the bed. Both men carefully set Malcolm upright against the headboard. Pillows and blankets tucked here and there assured that he would be as comfortable as possible.

Jon and Trip took a moment to gently explore Malcolm's still bandaged body. Though very self-conscious, Mal trusted his lovers implicitly. Lips, tongues, and fingertips moved along bruises and cuts that were thankfully already fading. Two or more kisses were bestowed on wounds that were more severe and seemed to need additional attention.

Malcolm felt two different pairs of lips on the cut over his eye and bruise on his cheek. Fingertips slipped under the sling to trace the cusp of his shoulder. Jon or Trip uttered a "tsk" when protruding ribs were reached. Two warm hands were gently laid on top of the still heavily bandages knife wound as though the pain could be absorbed.

Malcolm began to squirm as the two's journey ended around his thigh. Just two fingers played along the edge of the bandage there before racing each other through the dark curls at the base of his straining cock. Hands stroked through and firmly but briefly grasped before pulling away.

"Wha...don't you dare stop!" He grumped as the two blonde heads moved away from his crotch.

Trip grinned and jumped from the bed towards a chair. Jon and Malcolm both admired the sinewy backside as he stretched a kink loose. Malcolm noted that Trip's bum dimpled with each step the taller man took. With a quick look to Jon, the Englishman wondered if the older man's bum had dimples as well. Jon gave him a knowing wink and smirk.

Grabbing the seat cushion Trip sidled up to Malcolm with a quick peck on the nose. He arranged the pillow in the Brit's hugging arm. Malcolm gave the Southerner a confused look.

"Ah know you were looking at my butt. This might help ya in a minute."

And with that Trip slithered down again. Malcolm remained unsure of what exactly the pillow was for. But its purpose became clear within moments. Because as Trip reached Malcolm's cock Jon joined him to lick on either side of thick long member. Finally ending at the tiny opening of the mushroom head to tongue it and each other.

Arching his hips in shocked surprise and blinding delight, Malcolm squeezed the pillow close to his chest, keeping pressure on his wound to a minimum. He found it difficult to articulate anything more than a grunt.

Both men continued their assault. One tongue found the extensive vein running along the underside of Mal's substantial member. The other greedily lapped at the juncture of head and shaft. Jon licked the pre cum gathered at the tip and tilted his head down to share a kiss with Trip. Reluctant at first to move away from his task, Trip quickly sucked Jon's tongue into his own mouth when he recognized the taste.

"God...you're delicious, Mal...especially on Jon's tongue!"

Both men grinned at seeing a deep blush stain along Malcolm's entire body, cock included. Settling back to their previous endeavors both noticed that the Englishman was definitely hotter and harder.

"Jon...Trip...if...uuuughhhh...cor...best...stop...I...won't be..." Malcolm began to twist away from the relentless mouths and hands, "I...don't...want to...not without...ooooh...you."

Both men stopped and looked up at the dazed and flush Armory Officer. Glancing at each other as if silently deciding, Trip bestowed one last kiss before moving down farther along Jon's gorgeous body. Jon's eyes now an unbelievable shade of green smiled back at Malcolm, only to gasp out as Trip bit down on his ass.

"Aaaaah...I think we can arrange coming with you."

### 24.

"Jon, in the nightstand," Trip nodded towards the small drawer.

Jon moved forward and pressed his naked body into Malcolm's as he reached for the drawer. Mal cradled the older man in his good arm catching scent of something earthy, spicy and very Jon.

Finding what he was looking for Archer pulled back and smiled brightly. Stealing a quick peck he moved back down the Brit's body before sitting back on his knees. Malcolm thanked the heavens for the sight of Trip kneeling behind Jon. Beautiful body draped over beautiful body.

Their two blonde heads nestled together as they kissed and tongued each other. Trip ran a strong searching hand along Jon's chest. Finding a dark nipple, Trip traced a fingernail around it, causing Jon's abs to jump in reflex. Jon and Malcolm both groaned. One at the erotic sensation, the other at the erotic sight of a gorgeous cock jumping in reflex as well.

While Trip had Jon in mid groan, he quickly ran his hand straight down to his lover's straining cock. Without hesitation Trip stroked Jon expertly.

"Ahhhhh...Trip...soooo good!"

Trip eyed Malcolm watching them intently. The Englishman stroked his own engorged member in time to his lovers' movements. Trip whispered into Jon's ear and the older man caught sight of Malcolm as well. All three couldn't imagine a more superb vision that what their lovers were doing in that moment.

"Jon, it ain't right for Mal to take care of that himself."

"You're absolutely right Trip. I'll take full responsibility."

Jon opened the small bottle of lube and squeezed some into the palm of his hand before passing the container to Trip. With one last kiss, Jon slunk forward between Malcolm's thighs wicked glint and smirk in place. Malcolm wasn't sure if he should be worried or enthralled.

Trip watched Jon's broad muscular back ripple towards Malcolm. When the older man sensually settled in with legs up and widespread, it was a beautiful sight indeed. Trip recognized the slight look of apprehension on Mal's face. He'd had that look on his own face before. Smiling he remembered that Jon's very talented lips, tongue and mouth were sure to replace that expression with one of sheer rapture.

Reaching his goal, Jon moved Malcolm's hand away, "My responsibility, Mr. Reed."

"Ye...yes, Sir."

Jon studied his prize for a moment, as if to formulate a plan of attack. Just having those deep golden green eyes on his cock made Malcolm want to come. Jon watched in awe as another delicate bead of pre cum formed at the tip of the younger man's penis. Jon's tongue dipped into the drop and trailed it along the seam on the underside of Mal's cock.

Jon abruptly stopped lapping at the connection of shaft and head when the Brit made a noise that sounded like pain. Glancing up to study Mal, Jon smirked in relief. The younger man glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and was clearly in a state of bliss. Changing his angle slightly Jon engulfed Malcolm in the warm velvet of his cunning mouth.

Malcolm's yell signaled Trip to scoot in closer behind Jon. He began to rub soothing circles on Jon's lower back.

"Mal, ya sound so wonderful. And Ah know ya taste as good as ya look. You enjoyin yaself, Jon?"

Gasping air Jon replied, "God, yes!" before dipping in again.

Trip began to knead Jon's ass, "Ah think its time we joined ya, Mal." Mal vaguely nodded his agreement.

Trip stopped long enough to squeeze lube onto his fingers, before tossing the bottle on the floor. He warmed the slick solution by rubbing his fingertips together. He ever so gently insinuated a finger between Jon's ass cheeks. Jon pulled away slightly at the surprise of fingers along his crease. But after recognizing what was going to happen, he pushed back against Trip's fingers with impatience.

Trip brushed his finger along the opening before slipping inside slowly. The sensation caused Jon to swallow tightly around Malcolm that sent a shiver through the younger man.

"Trip...whatever you're doing...don't stop! He's...his mouth is...so hot...around me. Hurry please!"

Malcolm begged belligerently. Taking his plea to heart, Trip slipped a second digit in. Jon rotated his hips to meet Trip's twisting fingers. Mal unknowingly mimicked the movements. Jon started to thrust into both his lovers in counterpoint.

"Trip...more...give me more now."

It was Jon's turn to beg belligerently. Trip slipped a third finger into Jon's core. The older man all but screamed around Malcolm's slick member. Trip sure he would come from the sounds and sights in front him quickly removed his fingers and wrapped the remaining lube on his hands around his own aching shaft. Not meaning to, he slid into Jon with one quick movement.

"Shit!...Jon your so tight...Mal ya look so beautiful...Ah can't believe this is us...want you...want you both!"

Sensing none of them would last very long, Jon brushed the lube he had palmed earlier over Malcolm's balls. The Brit's eyes went wide before they scrunched shut tightly and hid in the pillow at his chest. Jon cupped their weight for a moment before moving the lubricant towards Malcolm's ass. Archer slipped a long thick finger in the warm tightness and began to stroke in and out. He angled a slightly different direction each time until he found and brushed over that sweet spot that shot pure ecstasy along Mal's spine.

Trip knew what Jon was doing to Malcolm and decided it only fair that his best friend got a taste of the torture he was dishing out. Trip pulled his hot cock out farther and stroked back in slowly and in different directions searching for the nub of pleasure deep within. The sudden constricting tightness told him he had hit the mark. From the whimper that muffled into the pillow, Malcolm must have received some indication from Jon as well.

With an evil smile Trip leaned over and reached a still slick hand around Jon's engorged penis and began to pump. The trio moved in unison and harmony for only a few moments more. Twin strokes across the heavenly spot started the chain reaction. As Jon was hit with another blinding streak of pleasure his channel tightened around Trip's cock.

"Jon! I'm...ugh!"

Trip grew hotter and thicker just before he let loose a flood of cum deep in his lover. Unbelievably he was coherent enough to stoke Jon's cock into spurting warm jets of semen over his hand. The warm silk of it was indescribable.

"Fuck...your hand...on me...so damn good!"

Their sensuality moved forward to the final draws of Malcolm's engorged member into Jon's lustful mouth. One last brush along that secret nub from a seeking finger freed the younger man from his aching need. Jon greedily swallowed each splash of Malcolm's come. Salty and somewhat tingly Jon wasted not a drop.

Hot content body partially covered hot content body in daisy chain fashion. Trying to regain strength, each soul breathed slowly, deeply and in rhythm to each other. Hands absently burnished a deep abiding love into each others flesh.

Malcolm though quiet in orgasm had been lazily running a hand through the older man's hair. Jon lifted his head with a start...the elegant hand had stopped and dropped away. Trip sensing his lover shifting moved so that Jon could get up. Trip blearily followed along.

Two blonde heads peered cautiously and worriedly at Malcolm. The exhausted man was sound asleep. This time though not with a frown or pain etched on his angular face. Rather with a peaceful and content expression neither ever remembering seeing before. It was as if Malcolm had found what he was looking for. And indeed he had...he had found his fate.

Trip and Jon grinned at each other. They too had gained a new sense of peace and contentment. Leaning in for a sweet kiss, tongues met for a gentle moment. They could taste each other as well as something lovely and distinctly Malcolm. Their essence blending perfectly...as if fated to do so.

Breaking apart Trip stepped into the bathroom for a minute returning with washcloth and hand towel. Lovingly he cleaned Malcolm and Jon before tending to himself. After tossing both towels back into the bathroom, he helped Jon gently move Malcolm completely onto his back. Pillow under his head fluffed and readjusted, the Englishman was totally oblivious. Trip lightly draped a sheet over Mal's relaxed body, as Jon pulled the chair closer to the bed.

Never taking his eyes off the slumbering man, Jon sat down and spread his legs. Trip scrutinized Mal a bit longer. Somewhat satisfied he gently pulled the pillow from the Brit's arm. Bumping backwards he dropped the pillow to the floor between Jon's legs and settled in Indian style. Jon leaned his chin on top of Trip's head as he wrapped comforting arms around the Southerner. They would let Malcolm sleep just a while longer before getting him back to Sickbay.

"Lights, low."

Both continued their vigil together.

* * *

When Doctor Phlox stepped into Sickbay the next morning he immediately sensed the presence of others. Quietly he headed towards Malcolm's biobed. Gently drawing back the curtain he was pleasantly surprised by the sight.

Malcolm was sleeping deeply. Maybe a little worse for wear, but his face clearly reflected a long sought after peacefulness. And after a long absence his two guardians had returned as well. Also in deep, peaceful albeit less comfortable sleep. After all how comfortably can one sleep in a chair.

Trained to observe even the tiniest detail the good Doctor noted some subtle changes. Most notably the Captain and Commander's hands clung together across the Armory Officer's chest. And Mr. Reed's good hand clutched both possessively to his very heart and soul.

Dr. Phlox shook his head ruefully. For an intelligent species, it took such a great deal of effort for humans to "figure things out". Captain Archer, Mr. Tucker and Mr. Reed are prime examples. After all, it certainly took them long enough to realize they were meant for each other. How did that quaint earth saying go? It's as plain as the nose on Trip's face? The three so entwined like their hands were...fated...to be together always.

Dr. Phlox left the three alone...hopefully to dream of each other.

### 25\. EPILOGUE.

Porthos' ears perked at the sound of laughter stopping in front of his master's door. The rest of his pack had come home. Jumping excitedly from the bunk, the beagle scrabbled toward the door just as it opened.

Malcolm gingerly bent down to grab the squirming dog jumping around his legs. Behind him Jon pressed forward to help the struggling officer back up. But before he could reach the man, Trip had a hold of his Commanding Officer's arm pulling him back. Jon frowned at Trip, who in return shook his head knowingly. Both bit back a chide when they heard a small sound of discomfort when the Brit straightened up.

"Hullo boy! Did you miss us? Ready for a bite and walk?"

Malcolm ever so slightly limped away while being licked by the excited animal. He went to the cabinet and began preparing a bowl for Porthos. Jon and Trip regained their composure and moved to join them. Gathering each other into a tangle of arms, sensual kisses reminded of things to come.

The Armory Officer's weeks of convalescence were far from a breeze. Although not so pleased about the patient's escape from Sickbay that night four weeks ago. Dr. Phlox was happy to see the three men had come to an understanding. It provided physical support, but more importantly, emotional strength, for what proved to be a gradual and often frustrating journey for the young man.

Early on and not to anyone's surprise Malcolm's slow recovery began to rankle the Englishman. He was so used to doing for himself, being able to move without pain, weakness or constant scrutiny that the loss of independence made him feel like a caged animal. Alternately snappish...broody...melancholy...Malcolm ran the gambit of emotional upheaval. It was only with a good deal of support from lovers and friends that the Armory Officer had made it to this...the end of his first full duty shift.

Over the weeks each became a specialist adept at cajoling...coaxing...enticing and just plain nagging the wounded man into eating, sleeping, submitting to examinations, doing physical therapy or just sitting still. Though at times aggravating the rewards were well worth the effort.

Hoshi and Travis could be counted on to pull Malcolm out of his darkest moods. Hoshi discovered that she could get the Armory Officer to sit still by reading aloud to him. His eyes glittered before chuckling when dialog was theatrically voiced in different languages. Romeo and Juliet in Vulcan and Klingon took on a whole new meaning than what the Bard surely intended.

Travis was just the immovable force the Armory Officer needed in a personal trainer. While quite the taskmaster when it came to physical therapy, the pilot could also get Malcolm rolling on the mat with laughter reminiscing about the old days. Knowing of his relationship with Jon and Trip, it was Travis too who was the Brit's most trusted confidante.

And when they visited together, Travis and Hoshi, would always provide the latest ship gossip from their unique and often opposing points of view.

"She said that Michael Rostov did it before he posted to the Enterprise."

"Hoshi, how can you believe what Liz Culter says? Michael doesn't even own a pasta maker."

"Well, she swears that Joan saw him do it with her own eyes."

"From a different continent maybe!"

"You're from a different continent, Ensign!"

"No, Ensign I happen to be from space."

"Yeah, you are spaced."

"Don't you try to trip me up with your...your...language trickery."

By this time, Malcolm would be snickering as both Ensigns shot him a glare.

Surprisingly it was Dr. Phlox who literally had the Englishman "eating out of his hand." Well, the Doctor with a great deal of help from Chef. There were days when Malcolm seemed to have no inclination towards eating. He simply had no appetite or actually felt ill at the smell of food. The Denobulan already disapproving of the Lieutenant's regular dietary habits approached Chef with his concerns. With Doctor as guide Chef concocted a variety of small highly nutritional savories and sweets to hopefully entice the young man. To the Doctor's surprise and Chef's pride Malcolm did enjoy them and often ate them when nothing else seemed to appeal. Soon other crewmembers were enjoying the tidbits as quick snacks as well. The Denobulan was satisfied to see Malcolm's once gaunt and skeletal body return to its usual sleekly powerful build. Delighted too was the small alien when the Armory Officer started regularly taking meals with him.

What T'Pol and Malcolm did together was a mystery. Several times Malcolm was seen limping into T'Pol's quarters. On occasion she was seen visiting the Armory Officer's cabin. Once Trip found them sitting and talking in hushed secretive tones on the couch in the Officer's Lounge. Everyone speculated...they meditated together...she did some Vulcan mumbo jumbo on him...they just talked. And when asked point blank, neither was very inclined to admit they had even been together. It did seem however that Malcolm was more relaxed and centered afterwards and T'Pol seemed almost pleasant.

Jon and Trip were everything to Malcolm. Although he was thankful for his friends, Malcolm was sure he would not have progressed as well without the love and devotion of his two lovers. He smiled at how very different their "bedside manners" were.

Trip was more free-wheeling than Jon. Malcolm could always goad Trip into letting him do more than his health really allowed. At times, Trip was well aware that the Armory Officer was pushing the limit. But the Southerner also knew that the Brit's independence meant a great deal. Malcolm didn't much appreciate being mothered, especially by his lovers.

Not even the good Doctor was as stern and admonishing as Jon. Perhaps still feeling guilt over the younger man's injuries the Captain almost smothered Malcolm with his disapproving looks, comments of doing too much too soon, guiding hand when he felt the younger man couldn't do on his own.

Trip wasn't really surprised by his best friend's reaction. After this last incident on Xlaysia, Jon became especially over protective and vigilant of the Armory Officer. But when Malcolm chose to show his displeasure with Jon by reverting back to the exemplary Starfleet Officer...professional...polite...cool, Trip broached Jon's "mother hening'' habits.. After sheepishly admitting he was indeed being too watchful of Malcolm, Jon promised to give the wounded man some "breathing space".

It was Jon and Trip who were experts at taming Malcolm's sleeping problems, devising _unique_ ways to get the young man to relax. Malcolm was particularly fond of the little celebrations Jon and Trip invented for each of his recovery milestones.

To commemorate his release from Sickbay, Jon and Trip brought Malcolm down to his beloved Armory in the wee hours. Happy to see everything was ship shape, he wondered where the graveyard shift was exactly. But when Jon and Trip began to strip and push him aggressively against the locked Armory door it was fairly clear someone of authority made arrangements for the privacy. Malcolm still hardened at the image of two blonde heads taking turns at sucking him off, kissing his taste from each other after. He was surprised that Jon would take such a risk. When asked, the older man shrugged and simply stated they weren't on duty after all. Trip jumped in and suggested they christen Engineering and the Captain's Ready Room as well. The more duty bound men blushed furiously.

On the day Malcolm was able to remove the sling, he spent the evening with a magnificent cock in each strong hand happily licking, nibbling, sucking and stroking Jon and Trip to delirious orgasm. All the while watching and listening to both men enjoying his talents. Then it was his turn to reap the benefits of clever hands and mouths. It was the first time both Jon and Trip could cuddle into Malcolm's enfolding arms.

A nearly healed thigh wound was the most liberating. When Dr. Phlox removed the dressing he assured that the scar would heal nicely. He stressed the importance of keeping up with bending exercises so the muscle would remain flexible and limber. So that night to "do as the doctor ordered" Malcolm was laid down on his back, knees bent and entered by his lovers for the first time. Each man was incredible in his own way. Jon painstakingly gentle and cautious at first quickly lost control while watching Trip hover his hard member teasingly over Malcolm's mouth. After switching places Trip pushed in greedily and quickly fucking Malcolm with abandon. The Brit groaned and arched as Jon sucked him to renewed hardness. It was only a few moments before Trip came deep inside Malcolm and Jon bringing the smaller man to a second violent orgasm.

The three lovers have waited for this night with fervent anticipation. Malcolm was whole again and they were here. Standing together in Jon's quarters, longing for lost love was banished. Tonight Malcolm would enter each of his lovers for the first time. They have come full circle. Loving and devoted looks passed between golden green, sky blue and blue gray as the last celebration begins never to end.


End file.
